


You Only Live Twice

by WaxAgent



Series: Lovesong [6]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dirty Talk, Gay Sex, Getting (Back) Together, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, No Underage Sex, dumb things said while drunk, nancy wheeler is a godsend, necking, please just help these idiots, references to drug abuse, references to infidelity, shipping characters never actors, went tozier is a douche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-10 05:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxAgent/pseuds/WaxAgent
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is a lot of things, and he knows it; short, queer, mouthy. He gets it. It isn't news.He isn't stupid though, and he resents the term; even as he's packing to go to his ex-boyfriend's cousin's wedding. Honestly, it could turn out to be the best (worst) decision he's ever made. So, who're you calling stupid?





	1. Blasphemous Rumors

**Author's Note:**

> It's June of 2001. Eddie is 26, and Richie is 25.
> 
> This story takes place three and a half years after "Hazy Shade of Winter", and it'll make much more sense if you read the other parts of "Lovesong" first.
> 
> xoxo

“Alright,” Eddie said. Full to the brim with trepidation, he held his arms out and turned to the side, slowly. He felt half embarrassed, a quarter confident, and the remainder; a complete asshole. “How do I look?”

“Stupid,” Annie Carter said. 

“You didn’t even look up from your book.”

“I don’t need to,” Annie said, turning a page of the thick tome in her lap. “To know that going to your ex-boyfriend’s cousin’s wedding is a stupid look on you.” 

Eddie shot her an exasperated look. “The suit, though?”

Annie looked up, mirth tugging at the corner of her lips. She was small, bird boned and blonde. Dreadlocks were piled high on the top of her head, and the little silver ring in her nose twitched as she let a giggle slip out of her cool façade. “The suit is tremendous. Navy’s good on you. You still look stupid.”

“Gee,” Eddie sighed. “Thanks.” He turned around and stormed back into his room, throwing aside his suit jacket as he went. “You’re very helpful, very supportive--”

“Roommate of the year,” Annie laughed. 

“--for an undergrad,” Eddie quipped, unbuckling and taking down his pants. He picked them up and folded then very carefully, and picked up his suit jacket, repeating the action. “You know,” he said suddenly, walking back out into his tiny livingroom. “It’s not _that_ stupid. We RSVPed ‘yes’ when we got the invite eight months ago, so, it’d be rude not to go, actually.”

“Are you lecturing me about the appropriate etiquette of going to a wedding with an ex?”

Eddie scowled and pulled himself up to his full height. It was a completely unintimidating gesture and totally lost of Annie; she was still nose deep in her textbook. “It’s not a _lecture_ , it’s common fucking sense, Jesus, we were friends for years before we ever dated and it doesn’t have to be ruined by us break--“

“Quit it, Professor Kaspbrak, I’ll take the cliff notes.”

“You fucking suck, Ann.”

“Uhhuh,” Annie grinned, nodding. “Go in that, actually; exactly what you’re wearing now. Pink shirt, yellow briefs, and a paisley tie. Richie Tozier’ll eat you alive.” Eddie flushed and flipped his friend off. “Not that I’ve ever met the man, but a glass and a half of red wine and you get _awfully_ chatty, Eddie Spag--“

“Don’t,” Eddie interrupted, pinning his friend with a severe look. “Please.” She stopped and nodded, something soft in her blue eyes. 

“Only him, I know,” Annie agreed quietly. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie rocked back and forth of the balls of his feet. He felt stupid in his shirt and he loosened his tie, absently, a twitching frown pulled over his mouth. “’S fine,” he said, but his voice betrayed something sad that he desperately wanted to ignore. 

“You…haven’t spoken at all, still?”

“You know we haven’t,” Eddie said. He started unbuttoning his shirt while he turned back into his room. “Not in the six months since I left.” Annie’s resulting silence rang in Eddie’s ears louder than her speaking. He took off his shirt and set it alongside his suit, arranging it with his tie and his socks. He put his hands on his hips, in his underwear, and uttered a soft “What the hell,” before packing it up into his carryon suitcase. He threw on a Seattle Seahawks t-shirt, grey and soft, one of Richie’s old ones that he’d stolen during their disastrous breakup. He tugged on a pair of green sweatpants as an afterthought.

“That’s the one, I guess,” Eddie walked back out into the living room and flopped onto the couch. Across from him, curled into her favorite armchair, Annie stared at him silently. “Please,” he groaned, tilting his head back. “Please do NOT psycho-analyze me. I’m very anxious as it is, I feel like throwing up.”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Annie said softly. “Six months is a long time to be apart. You don’t even know what he’ll think when he sees you. If he even thinks you’re still going, that is. If he even goes, himself.”

“I said yes, so I’m going,” Eddie huffed stubbornly. “If he doesn’t like it he should have called or some shit, instead of keeping me hanging for six months.”

“I just don’t understand what you’re hoping will happen.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie’s voice was tight. He ruffled his own hair and dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Annie. I wish I did.”

“Eddie,” Annie’s voice was sweet but unpatronizing, and Eddie felt a strangely powerful moment of pride; at a hair under twenty-three, Annie was almost five years his junior, but they had become fast friends when Eddie had been her TA two years ago. She’d graciously let him move in with her after…well, half a year ago. “You left him. Don’t blame him for not reaching out to you. He’s got to be feeling hurt as well. You have to try to sympathize with each other.” Goddamn it, yes, Eddie was proud. Annie was going to be a stellar psychologist. 

“I left him because he wouldn’t quit _shooting up_ , not because we had a fight over groceries,” Eddie said softly. He twisted the hem of his t-shirt over his thighs and bit his bottom lip. “I…I couldn’t watch him _die_ anymore, Annie.”

“But he might not be able to relate.” She leaned forward, setting her book on the floor, and placed her hand on Eddie’s knee. “It hurt you, to watch him do that to himself. You did what you had to do. But he’s hurting in a different way and you have to respect that.”

“What are you planning on charging hourly when you go into private practice?” Eddie asked and Annie laughed, squeezing his knee affectionately.

“That, my friend, would be a monumental conflict of interest.” She climbed off of the chair and onto the couch beside Eddie, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She kissed his cheek and Eddie kissed hers back. “I just worry. If I can give you an outside perspective, you know. I’d like to. You just don’t know what you’re walking into tomorrow.” 

“I’m not going to have a meltdown in the airport-”

“What if he’s worse?” Annie asked softly, playing with a few strands of Eddie’s wavy hair. “Could you handle it? If he’s worse than when you left?”

Eddie imagined it with startling clarity; a skeleton with skin and glasses, dirty curls and a wicked smile, track marks up and down his arms and in between his fucking toes. He shivered and Annie squeezed him. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I…”

“Just be ready for anything,” Anne offered. She was working his short, thick hair into a very pitiful French braid and Eddie allowed it, partially because he did love her, and a little because he needed the comfort. “We can have a wine night tonight, how about that? We’ll binge Friends. I have almost every episode on VHS.”

“Only if we don’t have to watch any episodes where Ross talks about the differences between a breakup and a break,” Eddie said, and Annie laughed.

* * *

Nervous did not accurately describe Eddie’s state of mind when he climbed out of his taxi in front of the Seattle-Tacoma Airport; _nervous-fucking-breakdown_ would have been more accurate. He was in a pink sweatshirt and tight, light jeans and white sneakers, clean and scrubbed down to his toenails. He clutched the handle of his little rolling suitcase and walked through check in and security in a fugue state, fumbling through his “yes ma’ams”, “Edward Kaspbraks”, and “Fort Wayne International airport, that’s where I’m going,” in a high pitched, nervous whine that didn’t much resemble his normal speaking voice. He was so intent on moving forward and doing it fast that when he heard a low, raspy voice say his name, he almost jumped out of his skin. 

“Well, bless me up, down and diagonal; Eddie Kaspbrak, as I live and breathe,” Eddie heard and he stopped short, his whole body tense like a finger on a trigger. He knew that he should respond, he should say anything, but his mind--

_RichieRichieRichieRichie_

\--wasn’t currently occupying any of his higher functions. He turned around and felt his heart leap up into his throat and his world very nearly fell off of its axis; Richie Tozier was sitting behind him, resplendent, his long legs stretched over almost three seats. He was wearing a green t-shirt and a sweatshirt, maroon cords and black loafers. A grey beanie pressed his curls down low over his forehead. Eddie was struck by his nerve, suddenly, the whole fucking lot of it that Richie must have had, to sit there smiling at him, healthy and alive, and he hadn’t _called_ \--

“Hi,” Richie said. He stood up and rubbed the back of his head. “Would this be an awkward time to tell you that I brought another date?” Eddie gaped at him and Richie laughed sharply. “Kidding. I’m kidding. You look nice.”

“You’re an ass,” Eddie said abruptly, his face reddening. “And you look like an idiot in that hat, it’s June.” 

“I’m incognito,” Richie shrugged. 

“What?” Eddie scoffed, sitting down across from Richie. Richie sat back down in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. 

“In-cog-ni-to,” Richie said slowly. Eddie glared at him. “So nobody recognizes me.”

“You give away your identity when you shout to anybody that you might know when they walk past you,” Eddie said, false cheeriness coloring his tone. Richie nodded and looked down. “So…” Eddie shifted in his seat. “How are you? It’s been six months.”

“Five months, twenty-seven days,” Richie mumbled, almost too low for Eddie to catch. He pushed up his glasses and smiled brightly. “I’m fine. How are you? Go on any dates? Meet any cute guys?”

Eddie blanched, fidgeting with the end of his sweatshirt. His heart lurched in his chest and it made him feel sick. “Don’t do this here, Rich.”

Richie had the grace to look apologetic, at least. “Sorry. You…having fun?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, you know, in life. Fun. You havin’ it?” 

“…Yep,” Eddie said. “Lots of fun, great times. You?”

“Sure am,” Richie stood up, swinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. Eddie noticed that every fingernail on his left hand was painted a different color, and it warmed him. Richie had stopped painting his nails when his addiction had worsened and for a while, Eddie had insisted on painting them for him. Eventually, though, he’d stopped, just like he’d stopped everything else. 

“I’m, uh, gonna use the restroom before we board,” Eddie said, feeling hot on the back of his neck. 

“Kinky.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said, rushing past Richie and down the hall. He leaned over the sink in the men’s bathroom, and splashed handful after handful of cold water over his face and neck. 

“You’re fine,” Eddie hissed at his reflection, gripping the cold edge of the sink. “Get it the fuck together, Eddie, get over yourself, or the next three days are going to be fucking unbearable.”

“I’ll say!” A brusque stranger shouted from a stall behind him and Eddie jumped, squeaked, and fled from the restroom without actually using it. He jogged back to his gate and boarded, shoving his pass at the fight attendant who collected them. 

He spotted Richie instantly on the plane; even sitting, the man’s tall stature put him well above everybody else. The plane was small, and the seats on either side of the aisle were in cheery rows of two. Eddie didn’t even need to look at the stub of his ticket to know who he was assigned to sit with. They had bought their seats together, after all. 

When he approached their row, Richie stood casually and moved aside. He took Eddie’s suitcase and hefted it up into the overhead compartment and Eddie thanked him with a wordless nod, scooting into the window seat. 

“Need anything out of here?” Richie asked, his arms still raised. A tiny sliver of his pale stomach tormented Eddie from in between the bottom of his t-shirt and the waistband of his pants. Eddie thought he could see the hint of a new tattoo there, stretched over his abdomen. He shook his head. 

“I have a book in my pocket,” he said. Richie nodded and shut the compartment, sliding back into his seat. “How about you?” Eddie asked softly. “I know…I know you hate to fly.”

“Sure do,” Richie hummed, nodding. “But I didn’t bring anything. I’ll suffer in gracious silence, don’t worry.” 

“You can have my book,” Eddie offered instantly. Richie raised an eyebrow. “I mean, if you want, if you need it.”

A sly smile curled the corner of Richie’s lips. “No offer for a handy in the bathroom to calm me down?” When Eddie turned beet red and grimaced, Richie sighed. “I’m kidding, Christ. Keep your book, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Eddie said. 

Eddie tried to ignore how obviously uncomfortable Richie was; the other man had wrenched his eyes shut through takeoff and after that, vacillated between squeezing his armrests to death and clutching a hand over his face. To say that Richie didn’t like flying was the understatement of the century. Eddie remembered a colorful incident several years ago when the band booked their first gig out of state-- 

_\--Richie had taken one too many Xanax and had spent the flight alternating wildly between giggling, puking, and nodding off. Jesse had needed to carry him off of the plane when they’d finally touched down, and nobody had ever spoken on it after that. Up to then, it had only been speed and cocaine and Eddie had been used to it, had begrudgingly accepted it, but now--_

\--and he would never forget it, what he now understood to be a part of Richie’s earlier experiments with pills. He sort of wished he could. 

The silence that stretched between them was empty and long, and when the stewardess came up to them to take their drink orders, Eddie was surprised to hear Richie graciously turn her down.

“Sure, call if you change your mind,” she said, Midwestern and sweet. “How about you, honey?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said. “Thanks.” Eddie looked out of the corner of his eyes; Richie was pointedly not looking at him, his long hands knotted together tightly in his lap. 

“Alright, dears,” she said. “Just ring that li’l bell above you if you need anything and I’ll be over when the turbulence clears.”

“I feel like if I needed a drink, I’d need it to get _through_ the turbulence,” Richie moaned when she left. His knuckles were strained and white and, on impulse, Eddie bookmarked his spot and reached his hands out and took both of Richie’s in his. He rubbed his knuckles with slow, circular motions of his thumbs.

Richie closed his eyes tightly. He opened his hands and Eddie held them, wincing a little as Richie squeezed his fingers tightly when the plane lurched.

“Ohhh, this sucks,” Richie groaned, looking pale and vaguely green. “I fucking hate this shit, I should have driven.” He opened his eyes and looked at Eddie and Eddie’s breath hitched, because when did their faces get so _close_?

“It’s a thirty hour drive, Richie.”

“Thirty hours on the _ground_.”

“Semantics,” Eddie said. He rubbed the hands in his own. He held a private moment in his thoughts to ruminate on Richie’s long, skinny fingers, the way that they looked in his own, the mature, lovely hands that they were attached to, and, in a surprising flash of heat, he remembered the way that they used to _taste_.

“I really thought about bringing another date,” Richie admitted quietly, in a rush, knocking Eddie out of his own mind. The look of vulnerable honesty on his face was so intense and so heart wrenching that Eddie wanted to look away. He couldn’t. “To piss you off. To watch you walk into the airport and get through security and see somebody else with me.”

“So why didn’t you?” 

Richie shrugged, and let his eyes drop to their laced hands. Eddie spread his fingers out and Richie slipped them into his own, eyes thoughtful and intense, and Eddie read a million and one emotions play out of Richie’s face because, even after months apart and hurting, Richie was still transparent to Eddie just like he always had been. 

_“I didn’t want to hurt you like that,”_ Eddie imagined Richie saying. 

_“I promised you we’d go together.”_

_“I missed you, Eddie.”_

_“I still love you, Eddie.”_

“Seemed rude,” Richie eventually said. He squeezed Eddie’s hand. “Just seemed like a shitty thing to do, after everything.” 

“It would have been,” Eddie nodded, throat dry. 

“Not that doing shitty things is so out of character for me,” Richie murmured, the pad of his thumb warm over Eddie’s knuckles. He was saying more with his fingers than his words, but Eddie couldn’t stop watching his ex’s face, trying his hardest to drink down every nuanced emotion that he found there. Sharply, suddenly, he knew that he had started to _forget_ about Richie, and his little tics and features that Eddie had fallen so hard for over the course of more than ten years in love. He remembered that he could have written a whole book about Richie’s face, once; his big eyes and his full lips, the long, freckled nose and the high cheekbones. The way he used to blush and laugh, and the way that his brows had furrowed down, the way that he’d clenched his teeth and shouted when Eddie flushed all of his junk down the toilet before their final, fatal fight.

Richie was looking at him now, too, his eyes scanning over Eddie’s face, and they were so close. “You pierced your ear,” he said, a smile uncurling over his lips. Eddie blushed and grinned back, tugging at the little silver hoop in his right lobe. 

“It…it was my roommate’s idea,” he said shyly. “I went with her to get her nostril done and I ended up with this.”

“It’s cute,” Richie said. “And check it out, as always; great minds,” he stuck out his tongue. A silver barbell sat in the middle, plain and obvious and beautiful. 

“Great minds,” Eddie echoed, flushed and hot on the back of his neck. 

“I went with Lettie to get her nips and I got the tongue. And, uh, another to go with it.”

“Another what?” Richie smiled at Eddie, and Eddie found himself grinning back, caught up in the coy curve of the other man’s mouth. “Richie! What did you get?”

Richie smirked and looked around. “My. Belly. Button,” he whispered, overly dramtic, like he was revealing a state secret. Eddie actually snorted at the revelation, giggling. “Oh, that’s funny to you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a grown ass man say ‘belly button’,” Eddie laughed, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry.” 

“And you’re talking to the most grown ass man you’ve ever met,” Richie wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie laughed harder. “I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to say belly button. Don’t make me shout it from the rooftops.”

“Did…did it hurt?”

“Oh fuck yeah, it was terrible,” Richie said instantly and Eddie laughed again, high pitched, his nosed crinkled and his eyes closed. “Oh, now my _pain_ is funny, Jesus, Kaspbrak.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Eddie caught his breath, still half laughing. Richie was beaming at him, his eyes half lidded and soft. Eddie’s heart raced. “You look really good,” he said. “You look healthy.”

“Yeah. I gained some weight,” Richie said in slow measures, his voice cathedral soft. “Think…Think I’ll find somebody to take home at the wedding? A handsome groomsman? Somebody’s loose, drunk buddy?”

Eddie felt his lips twitch. “No. I think you’ll open your mouth and they’ll run, screaming, into the hills.” 

Richie chuckled, and Eddie felt the ice between them thaw a little more. “Too bad it’s not a cousin of yours getting hitched instead,” he murmured. He lifted Eddie’s hand towards his mouth, thought better of it, and set their hands on the armrest between them. “I could maybe spend one more night with your mom, huh?”

Eddie leaned his head back against his seat. “No way. She has standards.” He grimaced, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, you just tricked me into talking about my mother’s standards.”

Richie laughed, then, a full blown, musical sound from the pit of his stomach and Eddie _soared_. He wished that he could bottle the sound. “I didn’t have to work that hard,” Richie said, smiling, laying his head in front of Eddie’s. They smiled at each other, and Eddie wanted more than anything to reach his hands up into Richie’s hair, to pull him in and kiss him over and over again, to beg into his mouth _“I’m sorry Richie, I’m so sorry, I regret it, please forgive me, take me back, please--“_

Richie was humming softly, tapping his fingers against Eddie’s. 

“New song?” Eddie asked, valiantly ignoring his impulses and immediately feeling down about it.

“Yeah, from our CD.”

“CD? You guys don’t have a CD, just a single,” Eddie hadn’t exactly been going to Richie’s shows, but he did keep track of the band. There were two copies of the single in his apartment. One belonged to him, one to Annie. They never spoke about it, but Eddie’s was almost worn through, shot after he’d listened to it so many times. It helped him to feel close to Richie right after he’d left, to hear his honeyed voice and powerful lyrics and the mighty, euphoric roar of his guitar playing while he waited for a call that would never arrive. He had started to borrow Annie’s before she’d hidden it, and Eddie only listened to his sparingly, now. He wanted it to last. 

“It comes out in three months,” Richie said, a bashful look on his face. “We got signed,” he added quietly and Eddie sat straight up in his seat.

“What?”

“A label picked us up, a month and a half ago--“ Fuck propriety, because Eddie’s arms were around Richie’s neck and he was squeezing the life out of him in an embrace before he totally knew what he was doing. Richie’s ears were red hot in Eddie’s peripheral view and the smaller man backed off quickly, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It’s just- I can’t believe-“ he floundered over different fragments for a moment, and settled on, “I’m so fucking happy for you, Rich. That’s amazing.” 

Richie was flustered, an unusual look on him. “Thanks,” he said. “Twelve songs total, we’re thinking. Jesse’s been writing like crazy.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Eddie said and Richie’s smile changed, smirking up at the edges.

“Fucking time, Eddie? What kind of naughty watch are _you_ wearing?”

Eddie pinched his brow and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking tool.”

“A fucking tool? Well, I can say, I’ve been called much worse--“

“Beep beep,” Eddie said suddenly, and they stared at each other, hung dumb in the strange balance between them. They burst out laughing, Eddie covering his mouth again, and Richie with his head thrown back. 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Richie said, his tone affectionate. “I forgot about beep beep, fuck me, Eds, Jesus.”

“Me too,” Eddie admitted, smiling. “Until just now.” He toyed with Richie’s fingers for a second and Richie let him, his brown eyes soft on Eddie. “Still at the bar?”

“Well, no,” Richie said. “I got fired a few months ago. Back in March.”

“What?” Eddie frowned. “You were there for years.”

“Well,” Richie tugged his hands out of Eddie’s and Eddie pulled his fingers back stubbornly before he realized what he was doing. He let Richie go. “Uh, I don’t really need it anymore. I got a pretty heavy advance for our album and a signing bonus so. I don’t need to do that anymore.” 

“You got signed a month and a half ago,” Eddie said. “So, early May, and you got fired in March. That doesn’t make sense, Richie.” 

“Drop it,” Richie said, but Eddie couldn’t.

“They didn’t fire you for drinking on the job, and they didn’t fire you for showing up high, so what--“

“I said,” Richie sat up, his jaw clenched. “Drop. It. _Please_.”

Eddie scowled, sitting up himself. He crossed his arms and set his jaw, watching as Richie closed his eyes while they rolled over another particularly nasty wave of turbulence. 

“In case you forgot,” Richie grunted, clutching the armrest. “ _You_ left _me_. You’re not entitled to anything about my life anymore, okay? So when I say drop it, just fucking drop it.”

“It’s not exactly like I just up and vanished--“

“No, I know, you had every reason to go--“

“I told you if you didn’t _quit_ then I was out--“

“I wasn’t myself,” Richie said sharply. “I was out of my mind, Eddie, I didn’t--“

“You punched a _hole_ in our _wall_ \--“

“I was jonesing, and-and I was messed up, I know, but that isn’t me anymore.” Richie was holding onto his calm by a tenuous thread and Eddie could see it slipping in the set of his jaw and the tensing of his hands. “And you weren’t exactly good to me, you know, at the end, and you know _exactly_ what I mean--“

“Wow,” Eddie said acidly. “Thank so much, Rich, for reminding me. I actually forgot, you know. Which is so weird, since normally _junkies_ are the ones with holes in their memories, or maybe you forgot that, because, you know--“

“Shut up,” Richie said, and Eddie did. Richie was staring straight at the seat ahead of him, a muscle in his neck twitching. His eyes were dark and angry and hurt, and Eddie wondered with a dark uncertainty if he’d gone too far. “Just shut the fuck up and read your book, Eddie.” He turned away with a huff, rolling onto his other side and Eddie refused to look at him any longer. He pulled his battered paperback out of his pocket and wrenched it open, but he found that he couldn’t concentrate.

* * *

“Wake up,” Eddie jerked awake just in time to miss the feeling of Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder. “We’re here.”

“What?” Eddie rubbed his eyes and stretched. Richie was staring at him, looking sullen and still kind of pissed off. 

“We’re here,” Richie repeated. He stood and hoisted his duffel over one shoulder. “You slept for most of the flight.”

“Oh,” Eddie said. A pregnant pause consumed them, and Eddie felt choked in it. “I’m sorry about what I said, earlier,” he added quietly. “About junkies, it…it wasn’t right.” 

“Well!” Richie said brightly, something nasty and sarcastic in the turn of his smile. He reached up and unlatched the overhead bin. “You’re right about junkies, you know, we’re not the best at remembering things.” He yanked Eddie’s suitcase down and thrust the handle at the smaller man. “Except that maybe I’m the exception, because I _remember_ that this used to be _my_ suitcase before you packed your shit into it and left, and I want it back after this trip.”

Eddie grabbed the handle of the roll along suitcase and stared at Richie.

“You can drop it off at my apartment,” Richie said cheerily. “You _remember_ where it is, I’m sure. You used to live there too.” He turned and walked down the aisle, his hands shoved into his pockets, and Eddie followed, scrambling to keep up.

“Richie,” he ran after the taller man. Richie stopped but didn’t turn towards him. His posture was stiff and unwelcoming. “Richie, you asshole, I said I was sorry--“

“I don’t know what the fuck your deal is,” Richie spat and Eddie recoiled. “You can’t hold my hands and hug me and then call me a junkie, Eddie, _you’re_ the asshole here--“

“I’m sorry!” Eddie yelled. “I fucked up, God, d’you want me to rent a plane and write it over Indiana?” 

“I’m trying to get something off of the ground with you here, and you can’t for one fucking second let me forget what a fuck up I was--“

“Jesus Christ, Rich! I said sorry!”

Richie glared at him. “I can’t do this,” he said, and the finality in his tone lanced through both of Eddie’s lungs and his heart. “This thing with you where you’re hot and cold. My therapist--“

“You have a therapist--“

“Yes! Because my life went on without you!” Richie exploded suddenly. The other disembarking passengers avoided them behind averted eyes and strangled whispers and Richie turned to Eddie, finally, seething. “I’m trying to move forward, so yes, I got a _therapist_ and I went to _rehab_ since you’re so fucking concerned and if you want to know,” Richie bent down, and whispered in Eddie’s ear, his thin voice venomous and spiteful. “I got fired for punching the fuck-knuckle that you dated after me, because he came in and ordered his shithead frat bros a round of drinks, and he wouldn’t stop talking about how _tight_ you were when you let him “hit it from behind”, and how good you felt going down on him, and how you _moaned_ when he yanked your fucking hair--“ 

Eddie shoved Richie and staggered back, trembling, his hand over his mouth. Richie’s chest was heaving and his eyes were narrowed. “It…” Eddie said, lost for words. “It was a one night stand--”

“Oh, boy!” Richie screeched. He threw his arms up. “A one night stand makes it so much fucking EASIER for me to handle!”

“Stop, stop yelling, please--“

“I thought,” Richie said bitterly. “That you were giving me space to get clean. I _did_. And when I found out after, that you were fucking some douchebag. You didn’t wait. You were _never_ going to wait.”

“How was I supposed to know you were getting your act together? You never called me,” Eddie said, his voice shrill and shaking. “And you can’t get mad for what I did after we broke up--“

“After we broke up,” Richie sucked his teeth and nodded. “Mmhm, right. Sure.”

“I was single, and so yes,” Eddie hissed, feeling warm and uncomfortable in his sweatshirt. “I fucked him AND I sucked his fucking cock. You happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Richie stared at Eddie. He face was absolutely livid, eyes wide and nostrils flared, but his chin and bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. He turned on his heel, and stormed off. Eddie squared his shoulders and stormed after him, pointedly not making eye contact.

“Go another way,” Richie grunted. 

“We’re going to the same place, you dipshit,” Eddie snapped back. 

“That doesn’t mean that you have to walk next to me.”

“Really, it kind of fucking does.”

Richie rolled his eyes and stopped, Eddie coming up short behind him. Across the baggage claim there was a severely cute guy, holding up a sign that said “Wheeler Wedding”. He had neatly parted hair and an eager, waiting smile.

“Hi,” Richie said, walking over to the other man. He was shorter than Richie but taller than Eddie, and his eyes were a profoundly deep blue. “You’re the best man, right? Supposed to be picking us up?”

“Yeah, you must be Richie,” the stranger smiled warmly and extended a hand. Richie shook it firmly. “I’m Will Byers. Wow, you look _exactly_ like Mike, but,” he smiled sheepishly and it wrinkled his nose. “You’ve probably heard that a lot, huh?” 

Richie took a deep breath. “Actually,” he grinned easily, tilting his head. “No, really? I’ve never heard it. You think there’s a resemblance?”

Will laughed, his cheeks pink. “Yeah, a passing one.”

“Well, who do you think is cuter--“

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie interrupted suddenly. “Eddie Kaspbrak. Nice to meet you, Will.” He held out his hand and Will shook it, smiling. His hands were warm and soft. 

“Nice to meet you,” Will smiled. He had a genuine vibe to him, like he actually _did_ think that it was nice to meet Eddie and, well, Eddie couldn’t disagree more.

“So how’s Mikey holding up?” Richie shifted his duffel bag into a different position. “Cold feet? Pre-wedding jitters?”

“Oh, absolutely not cold feet,” Will said. “No, he’s never been more sure about marrying El. He’s more nervous that he’ll mess up his vows or trip or something like that.”

“What, is he the one walking down the aisle?”

“Maybe he’s worried about his loudmouth cousin ruining his whole special day,” Eddie said. Richie raised one eyebrow, but otherwise pretended as though he hadn’t heard him speak. 

Will smiled nervously, looking between the two of them with no small degree of trepidation. “Uh, should he be?”

“Nope,” Richie said, smiling, but he still avoided looking at Eddie. “Not a wink. Now, don’t you have a pumpkin to usher this princess into, or what? Also, dibs on shotgun. Also, also; can I smoke in your car?”

* * *

“Richie, hey, you fucking asshole. You’re late,” Mike Wheeler was beaming in spite of his words. He opened his arms and he and Richie hugged, slapping each other on the back affectionately. 

“You can’t really blame me because your best boy likes to take the scenic route,” Richie said. 

“For the last time, it’s the best man,” Will laughed, his cheeks pink and his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Mm, yes, and what a man you are,” Richie smirked and Eddie rolled his eyes, huffing out a loud groan. Richie dutifully ignored him and ruffled Mike’s hair. “Looking good there buddy, you been hitting the gym?”

“Shut up,” Mike grumbled, still smiling. He punched Richie lightly in the arm. 

“Ow, Daddy,” Richie grinned. He reached up and took off his beanie, shoving it into his pocket. His mop of curls was far shorter than Eddie remembered. “But where oh where is the beautiful El? The only real reason that any of us are here.”

“She’s around,” Mike said bashfully. “Lots of family coming in, y’know, and everybody wants to see her. She’s with her dad right now, I think. Hey, Eddie,” Eddie looked up, surprised. “I’m sorry, I’m not ignoring you. My head’s in a million places. How are you?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie said. “It’s your weekend, we’re all just living in it.” He smiled when Mike laughed and opened his arms. He pushed Richie aside and hugged the taller man’s cousin tightly; he had _liked_ Mike, he remembered now. He had liked Mike and El tremendously, he--

_Richie heaving, gasping for air when El pulled the water out of his lungs and he’d lived, fuck he’d lived, and Eddie had never felt so relieved in his life--_

\--Eddie blinked rapidly when Mike squeezed his shoulder. “Good to have you here,” Mike said kindly. 

“Thanks,” Eddie breathed. “I’m…I’m just--

_Promises of Seattle, of a future, and he loved Richie boundlessly lovedlovedloved and it had been the first time they’d ever made love, he knew that now, he knew-_

_Richie and college, some sort of fight, and not remembering what it all meant-_

_“It’s beneath us,” El whispered. Her brows were furrowed and she pointed. Eddie turned to see where she indicated; it was a sewer grate. “It’s watching,” she said. “You think it’s sleeping, but It isn’t. It’s…waiting-_

_I’ll suck you for a quarter, kid, I’ll do it for a dime, I’ll do it for free-_

“--motion sick,” Eddie finished rigidly. “I’m motion sick, and my asthma, it’s, um, it’s b-been bugging me, humid, you know, I’m just…” He trailed off and waved one hand roughly. “I’m going to go check in and lay down, I think. Sorry. I know I’m a spoilsport.”

“No, no,” Mike gripped his shoulder again, a gentle smile on his face. “You had a long trip, relax. We’ll be here.”

Eddie nodded, his face red, and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. 

“D’you need a hand?” Richie asked. He was still looking away from Eddie but his brows were drawn down in concern. 

“Honestly,” Eddie said softly. Richie turned to look at him and their eyes met and Eddie’s stomach lurched. “No. No, I want to be alone.” Richie nodded once and Eddie turned off, walking stiffly into the hotel lobby.

“Hi,” he said at the front desk. “I’d like to check in, please.”

“Of course,” the man behind the front desk smiled without looking at Eddie, typing into the computer in front of him. “What’s the name of the reservation?”

“Richie Tozier,” Eddie grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was swimming. “It’s probably under Richard.”

“Mmhm, I see you, right here,” the man said. “It’s two rooms, one queen sized bed apiece, for three nights apiece. Sound correct?” So, Richie had called and changed their reservations at the hotel ahead of time; two separate rooms. Great. 

“Whatever,” Eddie said. “Probably. Sure.”

“Should I continue to have everything billed to the card that was used for the reservation?”

“That’s fine,” Eddie would work it out with Richie later. They’d have to split this, of course, and the plane tickets, and everything else, right down the fucking middle.

“Okay, Mr. Tozier, I just need the credit card that you used to book and your ID.”

“Here, that’ll be mine,” Eddie heard Richie’s deep voice. He looked up; Richie was leaning on the counter top, handing over his license and his credit card. “I’ll take one key and he’ll take the other.”

“Very well, sir,” the concierge smiled at Richie, accepting his documents. “Just give me one second to make sure that everything lines up here.”

“Cool,” Richie nodded, drumming his fingers idly on the marble. 

“I thought I told you that I wanted to be alone,” Eddie mumbled, his cheeks red. 

“Yeah, but I thought you might not want to sleep in the elevator, which is about as far as you’d get without the proper Washington State Identification,” Richie said smoothly. “Also, maybe I want to get my key and put my bag away before I go out trolling for hot singles. Ever think about anybody but yourself?”

“I wish you’d just shut the fuck up,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “I’m…fucking hell, Richie--“

“Everything’s all set, gentlemen,” the man behind the counter said with a smile. He handed them each a key, and handed a sheaf of receipts and his cards back to Richie. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks, we won’t,” Richie said. He took Eddie’s suitcase before the smaller man could protest and walked towards the elevator while Eddie scrambled to keep up. 

“Give that back,” Eddie said harshly. He yanked it away from his ex-boyfriend and stormed ahead of him to the elevator, jabbing the twelfth floor button twice. 

“Can’t take the heat?” Richie simpered, stepping into the closed space beside Eddie. “Get out of the kitchen, then.”

“You’re being an ass--“

“Maybe you shouldn’t have shouted at me in an airport about how you sucked some other dude’s dick.”

“It’s not like I cheated on you--“

“That time,” Richie said quietly. His eyes were on Eddie and his voice was quiet and powerful. “It’s not like you cheated on me _that_ time.” And Eddie knew that Richie was remembering what Eddie had told him that he’d done, how--

_\--how that stranger’s hands had felt on Eddie’s hips in the supply closet, hot enough to leave scars, how his mouth had felt on the back of Eddie’s neck when Eddie had begged him “Please, fuck, don’t leave any marks, my boyfriend-“_

_The man had laughed and nodded and Eddie had felt so sure, because it was just revenge, right, just about being lonely, right, and Eddie felt so alone-_

_When he confessed to Richie one week later (he’d never been able to keep a secret), neither one of them had cried. Eddie had felt a hurricane building in his chest when Richie had only shrugged, his eyes glassy and distant, “I have smack and you have anonymous closet hook-ups, then, I guess that’s our thing,” and Eddie had wanted to scream and cry and rage, but he couldn’t._

_The crying came later, though, enough to fill an ocean--_

\--he’d been unfaithful. _Again._ Eddie dug deep for a response and came up empty. He felt his cheeks and his neck burn and he stared ahead, shamefaced. “I was sorry,” he said eventually. “I’m _still_ sorry. I’ll feel terrible about it for the rest of my life, Rich. Okay? Are you happy?” 

Richie snorted. “Happy?” The elevator dinged as it hit their floor and Richie walked out of the doors. “Not by a long shot,” he said. His long legs took him away from Eddie faster than the smaller man could keep up. By the time that Eddie had exited the elevator, the door to Richie’s room had slammed shut and he stood in the hallway, alone, feeling very strongly that coming to Indiana was the worst decision that he had ever made. 


	2. Love Will Tear Us Apart

That night it was a perilously small comfort to Eddie to sit in his room alone, in his underwear, and digest what had happened over the course of the day. Seeing Richie again after six months had been a terrible shock to his system. He was mad at the man, so angry- but to see his face on the airplane when they’d sat so close and held hands…to know that Richie was off drugs, and safe, and he’d gained weight back, and he’d painted his _nails_ again was an irreplaceable piece of knowledge. Angry and hurt and so confused, Eddie kept that knowledge tucked away in his heart nonetheless, and he knew that he would hold it there forever. 

It was good. Richie was _safe_. He was a thundering fucking idiot and he still knew how to push all of Eddie’s buttons, but he was safe and alive and he’d been soft to the touch, and Eddie felt like he could forgive him not calling, could forget worrying over him for half of a year, if Richie would just be alive and whole for as long as Eddie lived. 

_Even if it isn’t with me_ , Eddie thought, aimless on his back on the stiff hotel bed. _But I fucking wish it was with me_.

Before walking into the airport, Eddie hadn’t realized that his greatest fear wasn’t that Richie’s addiction had worsened; it had been that Richie’s addiction had claimed him, that he’d be rotting in the ground somewhere, dead, his big mouth shut for good, and Eddie would never have known otherwise.

So yes, to see him- _whole_ \- to think about him- _annoying, but breathing_ \- was a comfort.

It was not a comfort, however, to sit in his room in his underwear, alone, and listen to Richie’s voice through the thin wall that separated them. Richie was singing, Christ, and he had been for _hours_ now. Eddie read a book; Richie sang a love song. Eddie turned up his television as loud as it would go? Richie started belting out pop punk ballads. At just before midnight and the end of his rope, Eddie snatched up his bedside phone, dialed, and waited, his arms crossed, tapping his foot.

“Room service, how can I assist you?”

“Hi, yes, can you send a pot of tea to room 1207, please? With honey?”

“Very well; should I bill it to room 1207?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eddie hissed. Richie was currently running through a rotation of Abba. “I need this to end before Dancing Queen comes up, so, if you could hurry that along, I’m _sure_ that the gentleman in 1207 needs to soothe his fucking voice.”

“Uh, sir--“ But Eddie hung up with a click and sat on his bed, glowering.

It was only nine minutes by his count when he heard a muffled knocking on Richie’s door through their adjoining wall. Richie cut himself off in the middle of a particularly spirited rendition of Mama Mia, and Eddie felt blessed by the silence.

He flopped back, closed his eyes, and was starting to drift off when there was a timid knock on his door. Eddie sat up, brows furrowed, and padded over. He opened the door cautiously, hiding his body behind it. “Hello?”

“Hi,” the bellboy smiled nervously at him. “Uhm, I have a delivery for you from 1207?”

“What?” 

“Um, it’s….these,” the bellboy blushed and thrust out a hand; a pair of tongs was clamped in his shaking fist. 

“ _What_?” Eddie repeated. He took the tongs delicately in between two fingers and frowned. 

“He also…he gave me fifty bucks to read you a note, so,” the bellboy, who looked like he felt as though he’d died and gone to hell, unfolded a piece of paper and read from it. “ _Dear Petty Kaspbrak; here’s something to help you get the stick out of your ass. Know that it’s so deep you might need a little help to reach it. Hope this helps! XOXOXO._ ” He sighed and lowered the piece of paper. “Should I just take those back, or--“

“Get the fuck out of here,” Eddie hissed, flushed down his neck and chest. He threw the tongs onto the floor outside of his room and slammed the door, double locking it. He could hear Richie cackling with laughter and he shouted a quick, “FUCK YOU!” at the wall and then stood there while Richie laughed harder, feeling very much an idiot.

* * *

Richie was STILL singing when Eddie woke up the next morning, tired and irate, and it pushed the shorter man instantly to his breaking point.

We need a truce, Eddie rubbed his eyes and sat up, bleary. Or I’m literally going to go insane. But there was another reason, and it was far more simple than a night of bad sleep; Eddie still loved him, and he wanted Richie in his life. They’d have to play nice.

He pulled on his stolen Seahawks shirt and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He paused, threw the sweatpants aside, and dug further into his suitcase, smiling when he found his prize. He pulled his shorts on- god, were they tight, and fucking uncomfortable, actually, but they’d always done the trick for Eddie in the past. He’d bought them two years ago during a wild spate of arguments, and the fighting with Richie had ceased instantly and so blissfully that Eddie had never quite had the heart to throw them away. He’d never told Richie that they weren’t meant to be sexy, really; they were only a small pair of sleep shorts from the women’s pajama section of Target, absently thrown into Eddie’s cart with his seltzer water and instant rice. Whatever. They were blue and soft and they _worked_. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie whispered to himself. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet and lightly slapped his cheeks, nodding. “You’re great, you’re fine. This is fine. You can do this. Okay.” Steeled in his resolve, he wrenched his door open, closed it behind him, and stood in front of the door to Richie’s room for the longest minute that he’d ever experienced. He knocked twice and waited, tugging his shirt down subconsciously, and then back up when it fell off of his shoulder.

Richie answered the door with raised eyebrows and a smug grin that seemed to freeze on his face when he saw Eddie, and Eddie swallowed roughly at the sight of him. He was shirtless and wearing low, clinging sweats and Eddie could practically hear his thoughts screech to a halt, his plan to craft a sort of ceasefire crumbling into dust. Richie had acquired a few new tattoos, scattered artwork over his upper body, but the tribal-looking sun around his belly button drew Eddie’s eyes like a magnet. In the center, Richie’s navel had been pierced, and there was that trail of dark hairs just below it that Eddie used to love to run his fingers over, that lead down below his waistband--

“My eyes are up here,” Richie said lowly, amused. Eddie’s gaze snapped up and he blushed. Richie leaned on his doorframe and crossed his arms. The center of his right arm, up and down in equal measures from his elbow, was covered in a tattoo of a huge, violet octopus. _Purple_ , Eddie thought, _purple was always his favorite color, that’s right_. “Tongs didn’t do the trick? I’m only willing to go in up to my elbow, just so you know, and who knows how deep that thing is lodged--“

“Can it,” Eddie muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I need toothpaste.”

“Come again?”

“Toothpaste,” Eddie said, the white lie smooth and easy on his tongue. It was for a greater good, he reasoned. “Toothpaste, can I borrow your fucking toothpaste?”

“Uh,” Richie looked taken aback, and Eddie mentally tallied himself a victory. “Yeah, sure. Come in, I’ll dig for it.” 

Eddie walked in behind his ex. When Richie’s back was turned, bent over his duffel bag, Eddie tugged the collar of his t-shirt lower, letting one tan shoulder pop out. When Richie turned around, Eddie was sitting on the end of his bed, his ankles crossed, blinking up at the taller man. 

“Uh,” Richie’s ears went red and he handed over the little tube to Eddie, his eyes roving over his ex. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Eddie graciously accepted the toothpaste. He patted the bed beside him and Richie sat, looking wary. “I…I really don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t want to brush your teeth?”

“No, this thing. With us.”

“This reminds me of the talk we had right before you left,” Richie clucked his tongue. 

Eddie flushed and stared down at the toothpaste in his hand. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Can we just….” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off one million different endings to the question that he wanted to ask. _-get back together? -forget it ever happened? -kiss until we have to go to the wedding, god, the last time I kissed you I didn’t know it would mean goodbye_. “Can we just act civil, please?” 

“Civil, civil,” Richie hummed. He was drumming his fingers against his kneecaps. “I’ve been very civil, I don’t know what you--“

“Please,” Eddie said softly. Richie stopped talking and looked at Eddie, his mouth twisting down in a frown. “Please, Richie. I know you…you have every right to hate my guts, okay? I fucked up, over and over again,” He grabbed one of Richie’s twitching hands and Richie sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Eddie,” Richie mumbled. “We _both_ fucked up. You know it.”

“But I fucked up last, and…oh, shit,” Eddie felt his eyes start to sting and where he’d previously been keeping score in his head an alarm of a voice was now screeching at him: _ABORT! ABORT MISSION_!

“Eds--“

“When I left you, I fucked up the worst, okay? I’ve…” His voice caught and he dropped Richie’s hand. “I don’t know why I came over here, I’m sorry. This was so stupid.” He stood up to go, but was stopped in his tracks when Richie gently took his hips in hand. Eddie looked at the other man; his expression was serious and contemplative, and underneath it all, very, very sad. He turned Eddie around and looked up at him, and rubbed one thumb over Eddie’s hip.

“You came over here,” Richie said slowly. “For toothpaste.” 

They stared at each other. Richie grinned and Eddie giggled, covering his mouth when it dissolved into full-blown, almost hysterical laughter. Richie smiled at him and let him go, his hands dropping back down into his lap. 

“I can do civil,” Richie added. He scratched the back of his head and licked his bottom lip, biting it. “For the next two days, civil’s my middle name.”

Eddie laughed again. “Nobody’s ever looked at you and thought; Richard Civil Tozier.”

Richie shrugged. “Beats Richard Wentworth Tozier by, like, a mile.”

Eddie smiled. He reached out a hand. “Start…start over, then?”

“I’m not doing some bullshit handshake thing.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, dropping his hand. “So, civil’s out the door already? Cute--”  
And then Richie was standing and hugging him, his arms tight around Eddie, so tight that Eddie had to arch up onto his tiptoes to avoid being lifted completely off of the ground. Eddie froze, his heart hammering against his chest, and grabbed Richie close, his fingers trembling over the warm skin of the other man’s back. 

“Better than a handshake,” Richie said. He released Eddie, who stumbled a little, still shocked. “You’re just too fun to pick on when you’re sleepy. So cranky.” He stretched and Eddie couldn’t help but pay attention while the band of his sweats slipped, exposing the prominent v of his hipbones. Honestly, it was just criminal. 

“If I’m cranky, maybe you shouldn’t antagonize me,” Eddie said, forcing his eyes back up to focus on Richie’s face instead of his delectable torso, with his delectable chest hair and his… _wait_. “When we’ve just made such a tenuous peace, too, I’m sorry, is…is that a _nipple_ piercing?”

“Mmm,” Richie shrugged and ignored Eddie’s question. “I’ve always thought you were cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t ignore me, asshole. You didn’t say anything about that one.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie flicked the piercing in question absently with one finger and Eddie’s mouth went dry. “Maybe it’s a secret to be kept in close concert between me and those that see my gorgeous shirtless chest. Not for public consumption.”

Eddie cleared his throat roughly. He knew his face was bright and red and he hated it. “Fine, Jesus. Thanks for the toothpaste.”

“Dental hygiene is important, Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, trying not to smile. Richie grinned at him. He tugged Eddie’s shirt to rights with one long hand, ghosting the back of his knuckles over Eddie’s collarbone in a motion that could be construed either as longing or as pure accident. 

“My old shirt,” Richie mused. “Those _shorts_. Fuck me, Kaspbrak, who are you trying to bone down with?”

It stung Eddie in a weird, private way that Richie didn’t acknowledge that the gesture was for him. “Your mom,” he said brightly, shaking it off. “Is she here yet?”

Richie laughed loudly. “Yowza, Eddie gets off a GREAT one,” he turned around after one last squeeze of Eddie’s shoulder, still chuckling. “My own medicine is AWFULLY bitter this morning, in case you were going to ask.” 

“Goes down easier with a teaspoon of sugar, I hear,” Eddie hummed. He watched Richie’s back for a minute while the taller man quaked with giggles and smiled to himself. “Thanks for the toothpaste, Rich. See you down there.” He turned around and headed towards the door.

“You sure will,” Eddie turned with his hand on the doorknob and caught Richie looking at him over his shoulder, smirking. “You might want to tug down those shorts before you go! Your ass is _almost_ all the way out.”

* * *

The ceremony was warm and breathtaking and full to the brim with love. Mike beamed the whole time, ecstatic, and he cried when El started her long walk down the aisle. Will, at his elbow, offered him a handkerchief that Mike gratefully accepted, smiling while he dabbed at his eyes. There were two other men behind Will and they were all smiling for Mike, and Eddie couldn’t find it in him to be pissed about anything at all. 

El looked absolutely radiant. Her curls were pulled back into a loose bun, some of them falling to frame her face in short, spiraling waves. Her bouquet was lilacs and daisies and she and Mike spent several seconds over the flowers just _smiling_ at each other before the officiant, a lanky man with a huge grin and a Farrah Fawcett bouffant of hair, cleared his throat and started to speak. 

Eddie watched Richie surreptitiously wipe his eyes during the vows and felt his heart ache. His hand, unbidden, clenched over his knee, inches away from Richie’s own. 

_Boundaries_ , he told himself, and settled for watching Richie in intermittent moments out of his periphery and wishing fruitlessly that he were brave enough to take his ex’s hand. 

The ceremony came and went, and Richie took Eddie’s elbow when they stood and guided him inside. “Figured you wouldn’t know anybody,” Richie said smoothly. “And I can’t abandon a Kaspbrak in this, his time of need.”

Eddie laughed. “Thanks, Richie.” Heartened by their contact, he linked his arm a little more firmly through the crook of his ex-boyfriend’s elbow. They walked together to the bar, and Eddie tried in vain to ignore the way that the cut of Richie’s suit broadened his shoulders and sharpened the lines of his legs but, at the end of the day, he was only human.

“Can I get you a drink?” Richie asked, and Eddie laughed.

“It’s a cash bar, you know,” Eddie smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“You can get the next one, how’s that?”

“Big spender.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Richie chuckled. He turned to the bar tender. “A vodka tea, please. And a whiskey rocks.” 

“You remembered,” Eddie said, incredibly pleased. 

“I try,” Richie handed Eddie his drink, and the feeling of the cool glass in his hand grounded Eddie somewhat against the Midwestern June heat. He released Richie’s elbow and leaned against the bar, gazing up at the taller man with what he hoped wasn’t the most obvious expression of fondness. Richie grinned back, leaning beside him.

“Hmm,” Richie mused, raising his glass. “To--“

“Being civil,” Eddie said, smiling when Richie clinked their glasses together. 

“Being civil,” Richie echoed. “I like it. Or, we can call it, “to the second time we’ve ever worn suits together”. You look nice in yours, by the way.” Eddie swallowed his drink roughly. Richie smiled; a soft, sweet expression. “You look really nice.”

“Your civil is showing,” Eddie mumbled, pleased, a blush rising over his cheeks.

“Civil, shmivel,” Eddie hoped that his imagination wasn’t playing tricks on him; that Richie’s eyes really were taking him in, that that half lidded smirking expression was for him. “You know you look good.”

_Ah, the glorious, contagious romance of weddings_. Of course he’d had plenty of time to take Richie in, in glorious Technicolor; the man was a dream dressed up. He wore a slim grey suit, the jacket unbuttoned over a maroon collared shirt. His curls were brushed neatly and his contacts were in. He looked more put together than Eddie had ever seen him before. “You look so handsome,” he said. 

“Handsome, hm?”

“Moreso when you’re quiet,” Eddie said, smiling over the rim of his glass. 

Richie laughed. “Well…if there’s space on your dance card at the end of the night,” Richie started slowly, his voice cautiously measured. “D’you think you’d want to dance with me? That could be a nice, quiet activity.”

Eddie shook his head. “Rich, you know I don’t dance.” 

“Just thought I’d ask,” Richie smiled. His look became particularly reserved, suddenly, and he shrugged like he was brushing Eddie’s casual rejection off of his shoulders. Eddie realized, one moment too late, that he’d botched something important. 

“Richie…” Eddie started, but he had no idea how to continue. Richie reached up to fidget with his glasses and dropped his hand awkwardly when he remembered their absence. 

“It’s okay!” Richie assured. “Really. Come on Eds, let’s get to our table.” He squeezed Eddie’s elbow; his nails had been stripped clean of all of their vibrant color, and remnants of the polish were caked against his cuticles. It didn’t take long for Eddie to realize the source of the hasty removal.

Aside from them, their table at the reception was a mix of some cousins, a great aunt, and Richie’s parents. Went and Maggie were seated on Richie’s other side and Eddie winced over his salad when they approached. He was supposed to have been here as Richie’s _boyfriend_ , and Richie had even cautioned him extensively about this very moment, months ago. “ _You know I’m out to them,”_ he’d said, his fingertips trailing lazily over Eddie’s bare hip. “ _They’ll either ignore it or be fucking shitty about it..”_

Ignoring it seemed to be the protocol of the evening. Maggie gave Eddie a thin smile and Went stood, re-buttoning his sport coat as he leaned over his son to shake Eddie’s hand.

“Eddie Kaspbrak, right?” Went asked, like he didn’t see Eddie several times a week for around ten years, the bulk of his only son’s childhood. “Good to see you, son.”

“Likewise,” Eddie lied. He sat down, very aware of the stretched aura of silence that hung over Richie, and of the fact that neither of Richie’s parents had greeted their son. “How…how’s work?”

“Work’s work!” Went guffawed. Maggie took a deep sip of her wine and Richie did the same with his whiskey. They could have been a mirrored image. “But what do you do, Ed?”

“I’m a doctoral student,” Eddie said. “I--“

“A doctor!” Went boomed, laughing. “Well, now. Isn’t that the right stuff. Rich thinks he’s going to…what, bartend forever?”

“Sure,” Richie mumbled around the rim of his glass. His casual refusal to admit to his accomplishments- and there were many to mention, so much to be proud of- caught at Eddie’s heart. “Bartending sounds cool.”

“Of course we only thought that he would be doing it through college, and here we are,” Went said. Eddie winced out a smile and looked at his plate. Across from him, Maggie pushed almost all of her salad away in favor of her drink. “Dating anybody, Ed?”

“Not, uh…not right now, no.”

“Well,” the elder Tozier male smiled secretively and clapped Richie on the shoulder. Richie glared at nothing and ate a heaping bite of lettuce. “Maybe you can teach my son a thing or two about the ladies.”

Richie snorted loudly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “There’s nothing that anybody at this table can teach me about fucking a woman that I’d be remotely interested in,” he deadpanned. 

Went dug his fingers a little deeper into Richie’s shoulder and they stared at each other for a while. Eventually, the older man relented, and Richie tucked back into his food with a greatly diminished exuberance. 

Eddie frowned. He shoved another quick bite of salad into his mouth and stood abruptly, an idea striking him like lightening. “Be right back,” he said. Richie looked at him with a bizarre expression but only nodded, knocking back the rest of his drink. 

Eddie rushed over to the bridesmaids’ table. “Excuse me,” he said. One of the women turned to look at him; she was utterly gorgeous, with a curly brown mop of hair, all piled onto the top of her head. She reminded Eddie vaguely of somebody who might have bullied him in high school, but her face was kind and warm. “Can I…I know it’s dinner, and I’m sorry, but can I borrow you?” 

“Sure,” she rose from her seat and lifted the edge of her dress. Eddie led her out of the ballroom of the hotel and into the front lobby and she stared at him, confused, one elegant eyebrow raised. 

“I need nail polish,” he blurted out. The woman tilted her head, both brows raised, now. “I…do you…have anything like that?”

“I might,” she said cautiously. “If you can maybe tell me _why_ you need it.” 

“Maybe I want to paint my nails,” Eddie said. “Do you have it or not?”

“You’re awfully snappy for somebody asking for help,” she said, but to Eddie’s intense relief, a sweet smile accompanied her words. “Come with me.” She took Eddie’s hand and pulled him to the elevator. “We have some in the bridal suite, but I think that all we have is pink and white--“

“Perfect!” Eddie exclaimed. The girl blinked at him and he grimaced, flushing. “Pink’ll match my shirt,” he explained, and she giggled. 

“I figured,” she tugged Eddie down a hall next, and stopped before a large set of double doors. “Hang on, this is my suite. Wait right here.” Eddie nodded as she unlocked her room and dipped inside. He whistled into his cupped palms anxiously, looking up and down the hallway, like Went Tozier would suddenly materialize in front of him and call him a freaky fucking fag--

“Here.” Eddie blinked. The bridesmaid was holding out a little vial of seashell pink polish. 

“Thank you,” Eddie said. He accepted it with nervous hands. “You, uhm, might be wondering--“

“I’m not,” she assured him with a soft smile. “You’re here with Richie, right?” Eddie nodded after a moment of bare hesitation. “He’s my cousin. I’m Mike’s sister, Nancy.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’m Eddie,” Eddie smiled. He held out his hand and Nancy shook it firmly. “I’ve heard good things! I just pictured a female Richie, to be honest.”

Nancy laughed and it made Eddie smile. “Yeah. The family resemblance on my mom’s side is strong. Anyway. I _know_ the things that my uncle says. He’s a cunt.” Eddie blinked at her and she grinned back at him, shrugging her bare shoulders. “I just hope you show him up, that’s all.”

“I’m not trying to show anybody up,” Eddie said softly. “I’m just…I want to be supportive. That’s all.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I approve,” Nancy said. “I’ll be getting back. You can return that some other time, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie agreed. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Nancy smiled. “I’ll see you back down there.” She breezed past Eddie, the edges of her long silk dress ruffling against the carpet.

Eddie sat down and crossed his legs. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Slowly, with infinite care, he painted his nails.

* * *

He had ditched his suit coat back in his room, and Eddie walked boldly back to his table with his sleeves still rolled up and his shoulders squared. Richie looked absolutely miserable; he had his head in one hand and he was swishing around the ice from his earlier drink, staring into the candle at the center of the table like he wished it would consume him.

“Sorry,” Eddie whispered to him. He sat back down when Richie looked at him, brows furrowed. He trailed his eyes over Eddie’s face but Eddie only smiled and shrugged. “Did I miss the main course?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, still obviously confused. “You’ve been gone for like twenty-five minutes. I saved you a plate.”

“Don’t worry, Ed, we all saw you sneaking off with Nancy,” Went smiled knowingly, tapping his bottom lip, and Eddie wanted to punch him with a sudden ferocity that honestly startled him. “All of our lips are sealed.” 

“There’s honestly nothing to talk about,” Eddie said sweetly. “Pass me the bread, Mr. Tozier?”

“Sure,” Went handed over the basket. He frowned when his eyes caught Eddie’s nails. Richie sucked in a breath and huffed out a laugh. He looked at Eddie, his grin wide enough to show all of his teeth. 

“Your nails,” Richie purred, his face lit in triumphant delight. “Are so fucking _cute_ , Eds.”

“I thought you might like them,” Eddie smiled back at Richie. He tore a piece off of his roll and popped it into his mouth. “Nancy picked out my color.”

“Brings out your tan,” Richie laughed. They caught each other’s eyes and smiled. Eddie felt bashful and flushed. “Thank you,” Richie said softly. He trailed a thumb briefly over the back of Eddie’s hand and Eddie’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest. “Means a lot.”

“No thanks necessary,” Eddie whispered. 

“You’re staring, Dad,” Richie said silkily. Went’s eyes snapped up to his son’s face. His ruddy cheeks were blotchy and his eyes were narrowed. “I bet Eddie still has some polish. I’ll give you a great big faggy manicure if you want.” Richie’s grin widened as Went pursed his lips and sucked his teeth; a gesture that Richie himself was prone to when he began to get really mad. “Hell, I might leave early myself and get all gussied up.”

“Richard,” Maggie said. Her tone was ice. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Ooh,” Richie sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. It’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it in my dick.” Eddie snorted, his laugh caught behind the food in his mouth. 

“You’re disgusting,” Maggie said, her wine-reddened mouth twisted into a frown. “I have no clue how I raised such a son who says such vulgar things.”

“It’s a part of my natural charm,” Richie said. He shrugged off his charcoal suit jacket and rolled up his own sleeves. Eddie could see the tentacles from the octopus tattoo that he had draping down his right arm. His left was pocked with scars; cigarette burns and old track marks. Suddenly, it became clear; the octopus tattoo was a cover up, meant to conceal Richie’s scars from a world of strangers that would judge him, and remind him of his past mistakes before he could even give a first impression. In that instant, in spite of everything they had ever been through, Eddie loved Richie, fiercely, and knew that he would never stop. 

“Well,” Richie sighed, blissfully unaware of Eddie’s inner monologue. “I’m about due for another. Dad? Eds? Ma, you want the rest of your bottle?”

Maggie pinned Richie with a look of terrible loathing and Richie smiled at her, wide and toothy. 

“Yeah,” Richie chuckled. He unfolded his long legs and stood. “You want the rest. Pops?”

Went was quiet and thoughtful. He cut into the remainder of the steak on his plate with a delicate precision and when he looked back up at Richie, his eyes were as hard and cold as stone. “How about shots?” He said. He smiled, and his teeth were absolutely perfect, white and straight. They seemed to call out Richie’s crooked teeth just by existing. “Better yet; a bottle of the nicest stuff they have for the men at this table. You can charge it to my room.” He popped a bite of fillet into his mouth, chewing. “You must be having trouble with money. I still get some of your mail and that bill for inpatient opioid rehabilitation; very pricey.”

“Money isn’t an issue,” Richie said, and his smile was twisted and nasty in a way that Eddie had never seen. “Trust me, it’ll be my pleasure.” He stalked off, his thin hands in his pockets.

“Wentworth,” Maggie said, polishing off her glass. “You shouldn’t be so rude in public.”

“Rude,” Went chuckled, cutting himself another piece. “What’s rude? This is how men talk, sweetheart.” 

Richie made his way back to the table. He slammed a crystal bottle into the space between him and Went and handed something else to Eddie; a glass of white wine. “They only had a mascato, sorry, I know you like a pinot,” Richie said as he sat himself back down. “Weddings, amiright?” 

“Pinot’s great,” Eddie said, feeling touched. “Thank you.”

Went snorted. “Wine? Come on, that’s what women drink. Here.” He poured he and Richie a shot apiece into their old glasses. They shot their drinks back in unison. Went hissed and nodded appreciably. Richie didn’t react. “One more, come on. Ed, you owe me a double now!” 

“Eddie doesn’t like whiskey,” Richie said. He held out his glass for his dad to refill. “That’s why I got him something else. It’s called consideration.” 

Eddie frowned. “Here,” he held out the glass designated for water. “Hit me.”

“Eds, you don’t have to--“

“No, Richie, I can drink whatever he drinks,” Eddie frowned at his glass. Smiling, Went poured him a heaping share.

“Dad,” Richie said softly. “That’s like three shots.”

“So,” Went smiled and raised his glass. “Can he drink what I drink or not? Cheers, boys.” They all drank and Eddie coughed around the bite of the hard liquor. His eyes watered and he took a deep, grateful sip of his wine to get the rough taste out of his mouth. 

When he looked back across the table Went was beaming at him. “’Atta boy,” he crowed. “Wonderful, now; let’s have another!”

“Sounds great,” Eddie extended his glass and Went poured him another round; when Eddie drank it this time, he coughed far less. Richie did not accept another drink.

Went reached out to pour Eddie a third go, but Richie grabbed his wrist roughly. “Stop,” he said firmly. “You proved your fucking point.”

“Come on, _Son_ ,” Went said. He clapped his hand over Richie’s and Eddie watched his eyes trail over Richie’s left arm, taking in the bountiful consequences of his son’s mishaps. “It takes a better man than you to know when to stop. Let Eddie speak for himself.”

“I think…I think I’d like some air,” Eddie swallowed hard around the rest of his wine. His head was swimming already. He grabbed Richie’s elbow and tugged, and Richie was standing with him in a heartbeat. “Outside?”

“There’s more waiting for you when you get back, _Eds_!” Wentworth called after them cheerily. Eddie tightened his grip on Richie’s elbow and held onto him through the lobby and all of the way outside. The evening air was muggy and stifling, and Eddie absently loosened his tie. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, muffled. Eddie looked up to see that he was lighting a cigarette. “He’s a real piece of shit. He’ll try to get you to drink with him all night now. He hates being challenged, he did the same thing to me when I was like fourteen.”

Eddie leaned against the wall, trying and failing to avoid staring at Richie’s handsome face. “I always knew he was an ass. No surprises here.” His stomach rolled and he grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was so stupid. Jesus Christ.”

Richie stepped closer to Eddie. “Shh, just go easy for the rest of the night.” He took Eddie’s hand away from his nose, very gently, and soothed his palm over Eddie’s concern-wrinkled forehead. Eddie melted and leaned into Richie’s touch. “You’ll be okay.”

“Fucking stupid,” Eddie echoed, staring up into Richie’s brown eyes. “You know I have a hard four drink limit if I’m around strangers.” Neither one of them liked to talk about how that limit was acquired, and Eddie couldn’t even listen to the soundtrack to RENT anymore without feeling like bile was creeping up in his throat.

“I’ve got your back,” Richie said, smiling. “I won’t let you get sloppy.”

“Promise?”

“Course,” Richie murmured. His left hand idly cupped Eddie’s cheek and Eddie gazed at him, soft and dreamy. “You should really eat some more food. You didn’t even eat dinner--“

“You should kiss me,” Eddie blurted out. His face went beet red. Richie’s lips parted, his eyes wide raised in utter shock. “I mean,” Eddie continued lamely. “If you want to. You should kiss me…if you want to.”

Richie was silent for a long minute. His empty hand fidgeted against Eddie’s cheek, fell to his shoulder, and he took a long, heavy drag off of his cigarette. “No,” he said eventually, blowing the smoke away from Eddie. “You’ve already had so much to drink. You don’t know what you’re saying, Eds.”

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled. He rubbed the side of his neck, nodding, no longer staring at Richie but determinedly away from him. “Oh. Okay.”

Richie flicked down the rest of his cigarette, crushing it underneath his slick black shoe. “Maybe, maybe tomorrow morning we can talk. After breakfast.” Richie was still standing so _close_. “Get some closure?”

“Closure,” Eddie said thickly. “You want that?”

Richie nodded tightly. “I want that if you do.” He brought his hand up, paused, and lowered it. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Okay,” Eddie said again. His eyes felt over-wet and warm and he blinked rapidly. “So…tomorrow?”

Richie smiled sadly. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

“You know, you don’t really have to watch out for me,” Eddie chuckled nervously. His hands, almost of their own accord, slid up Richie’s chest to straighten his collar. 

“Sure I do,” Richie whispered. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.” He released Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie let his fingers brush over the front of Richie’s throat. He felt Richie swallow, roughly, and pulled his hand away.

“No, ‘Chee,” and if that wasn’t the purest sign of the alcohol crashing into Eddie’s bloodstream, full force, then he didn’t know another one. Richie stared down at the ground, his face pink. “Mmm,” Eddie cupped Richie’s face and Richie lifted his eyes, staring at Eddie, his expression a mixed bag of anguish and affection. “I’m _fine_.” He kissed Richie’s cheek, a brush of lips over warm skin, and slipped out from under his arms.

“Eddie--“

“I’m FINE,” Eddie laughed, a little too high and too hysterical. _Closure_. He thought that he’d never hated a word more. “Go!” He waved both arms. “Go and-and smoke cigarettes and maybe have a drink and relax. Dance with a cute guy,” Eddie patted his chest and looked around; up, to the side, back at the hotel. Anywhere but at Richie Tozier. “Maybe…I will too.”

“That’s okay with you?” Richie asked. 

“Is it okay with you?” Eddie shot back, but he ruined it with another short burst of laughter. “C’mon. It’s just one night. What’s the absolute worst that can happen in one night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I am OVERWHELMED by the amount of feedback that I got for chapter one! From the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU!
> 
> I hope ya'll like chapter two just as much, and I hope you all stop wanting to kill me so very soon <33333
> 
> Some li'l notes:
> 
> Richie's clean off of drugs, but he's still drinking (more moderately then he used to) and he smokes about twice the amount of cigarettes that he used to. He wants to quit, he desperately does, but he's not ready to, yet.
> 
> Richie's new tattoos are as follows; a tribal sun around his navel, a purple, realistic octopus that takes up the center of his right arm, and an anchor over his heart. He has lots of tattoo plans for the future; he's hooked!
> 
> Cheers, ya'll. I'm so glad you're into this and I can't wait to read everything you have to say to me.
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo  
> waxagent


	3. Do The Walls Come Down

It only took thirty minutes for Eddie to regret telling Richie to go and dance without him. He’d spent all of that time keeping score and being angry about it, a half finished glass of wine tilted in his fingertips. Richie had danced with four people so far; El, the officiant with the great hair, and two strangers that Eddie hadn’t seen before. Maybe they were relatives, maybe not. Eddie didn’t really care because right now, Richie was dancing with his fifth partner of the evening, who he was _certainly_ not related to; Will fucking Byers. It was a peppy little song and they were barely touching each other, but they were both laughing and having such a good time that it made Eddie’s heart throb.

“You told him to do that, Kaspbrak,” he mumbled to himself, spinning around in his chair. “You _told_ him to, so you can’t get mad.”

“If you can still talk to yourself, you haven’t had enough to drink! Here,” Went bellowed, sitting back down beside his wife. Eddie and Maggie had been sitting alone at their table in sullen silence in Went’s absence, and Eddie had rather been enjoying it, thanks. Went raised his new scotch and smirked. “Your health, Eddie.” He shot it back and slid a second glass over to the much smaller man. “Ahh, that’s the spot. Drink up son, that’ll put some hair on your chest.”

“I already have chest hair, thanks,” Eddie glowered as he grabbed the drink, and laughed while Eddie swallowed it in three gulps. 

“Cheers!” He roared. “That’s right, Eddie. Come on. Richie left you here, you might as well have a drink with me!” His raucous shouting dissolved into a soft chuckle as he poured them each another round. 

“Richie did not leave me,” Eddie sipped at his drink. “I left ‘im.”

“Tosh, the company he leaves behind, that’s all that kid’s fucking good fo--“

“When did you break up?” Eddie looked up. Maggie Tozier’s eyes were fixed on him. She drank deeply from one of her infinite glasses of wine, and waited for him to respond.

“Wh-what?”

“You and my son. When?”

“Why?” Eddie scrubbed at his eyes. “You don’t care. You _hate_ ‘im, you always did.”

“I don’t hate him. I hate what he and Went bring out in each other,” Maggie said. She offered Eddie her glass and Eddie took it, sipped from it, and handed it back. “And I hate the kind of person he is.”

“Oh my God,” Eddie moaned, flopping back in his chair. “It’s a miracle that he made it to adulthood--”

“Rich? He barely made it. He’s a waste of space,” Went said. There was something there, a low simmering and latent rage and for a brief flash, Eddie was scared. Then Went smiled at him, all teeth and hard eyes, and smoothed a hand back through his thinning reddish hair, and the monster that Eddie had seen in him was gone as quickly as he’d noticed it. “Just look at him out there, Jesus.” Eddie did look; Richie was twirling a hysterically laughing Will. He dipped him, beaming, and Eddie looked back at Went. 

“He’s your son. He’s your _son_. How can you say that?”

Went pouted and raised his hands in self defense. “I’m just calling it as I see it. Come on, Ed, you’re a bright man. He’s a junkie and he’s a queer, and that’s just what it is. I’m only being honest.”

“Unbelievable!” Eddie groped over the table for Maggie’s hands. He took them both, and they were larger than his own. “Mrs. Tozier, look at ‘im…When y’do look at him, your son, don’t you remember what it’s like to be his mom? At all?” 

Maggie looked at Eddie’s hands in her own. _We’re just a couple of drunk idiots_ , Eddie thought, and it felt like mourning. _And neither one of us knows how to love him the right way._

“I remember,” she said “teaching him how to walk. How to read. He learned reading so late, you know. The second grade,” her voice sounded far away and lost. “Because I didn’t know how to teach him.”

“He’s still so smart, Mrs. Tozier,” Eddie insisted. “And he graduated with a 4.0 from college, did you know? He went through so much--“

“I don’t need to hear from you how smart my son is,” Maggie spat suddenly, and Eddie yanked his hands back as though he’d been burned. “I _know_ how he is, I know--“

“Do you want to know,” Went drawled, “what I _remember_ when I look at Rich?” He grinned widely and looked between Eddie and his wife. “I remember that a condom can break, point-one percent of the time.” He guffawed and elbowed Maggie’s arm. She looked at him viciously, stood, and walked away. “Mags! Maggie!”

Cold, wretched fury coursed through Eddie and he lurched away from the table. “You,” he pointed at Went. The older man smiled serenely. “You’re the _devil_.” 

“Oh, come on, Ed!” Went whined. “It was a joke, lighten up!” But Eddie was storming away from him, lit from within by rage and sadness and everything- six months of _everything_. 

He caught Richie’s eyes on pure accident and slung himself across the dance floor until he was standing right in front of him and Will, biting his bottom lip. “Will.” Will turned, his blue eyes light and sweet, and blinked at Eddie.

“Eddie! What’s up?”

Eddie chewed at his lip. “I need you, please. Need to talk to you.” He grabbed Will’s hand and pulled on him. “I’ll buy you a drink, just…talk to me.”

“Eds, are you okay?” Richie’s was still holding one of Will’s hands from their interrupted dance and Eddie wanted to ignore that more than anything else. 

“’M okay! “ Eddie tried to smile. Judging by the weird look on Richie’s face, he was wildly unsuccessful. “Fine, just…Will,” Eddie pulled Will closer and Will obliged, releasing Richie’s hand and using both of his own to support Eddie. “Please.”

“Sure, sure,” Will soothed. “A drink sounds nice. Come on,” he turned over his shoulder to Richie. “Go dance, okay? I’ll be right back.” Richie opened his mouth to say something but Will cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I know, I know. I’ll keep an eye.” He turned his attention back to Eddie, hiking the smaller man a little closer to him. “Maybe you’d like a water?”

“I’d like a pinot grigio,” Eddie slurred, stumbling over his own feet. “But a mascato’ll do.”

“Let’s try a water first,” Will smiled. “Here you go,” he helped Eddie lean against the bar and signaled for the bartender. They spoke in hushed tones beside him but Eddie watched Richie across the wide expanse of the ballroom instead of listening. He was dancing with somebody else now, but his movements were distracted, and he kept catching Eddie’s eyes. Eddie swallowed hard. 

“Here,” Will said. He pressed a cool glass into Eddie’s hands. “Drink that.” Eddie nodded. The water was delicious and cool on his tongue. “Now, what’s on your mind.”

“I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“’S a weird question.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Please…” Eddie set his glass down and grabbed Will’s hands. “ _Please_ don’sleep with Richie. Please.” 

“What?”

“I’m,” Eddie hiccupped. “I’ll beg you. Just…I love him and it hurts, so please, please--“

“Eddie,” Will soothed. “I’m not going to sleep with Richie. Nobody’s going to sleep with Richie. It’s okay.”

“Oh…” Eddie nodded, his brows furrowed. “Don’t…don’t y’wanna?”

Will laughed. “No, I don’t want to. I think you’re projecting. Drink some more water- yep, just like that, there you go.”

“I dunno want to do,” Eddie said, wiping his mouth.

“Well for starters, ask him to dance.”

“I dun’dance.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Will smiled. He stood and squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “You should know that while we were dancing, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s worried about you, so…let’s go and show him that you’re okay.”

“I’m so scared,” Eddie whispered. “Will. What do I do?”

Will’s face took on a strange, sympathetic cast. “Listen, I…” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know what it’s like to be scared. But I know that you don’t have to be afraid of Richie. Instead of being scared of him, or scared around him, let…let the way that he makes you feel become the seat of your bravery. Okay?”

Eddie nodded. “You-you’re so wise.” He giggled suddenly, and Will’s face relaxed into a smile. “Will the Wise. That’s what they should call you.” 

“Believe it or not, you aren’t the first one to say that. Now come on, let’s go and get your guy.”

“C’mon,” Eddie echoed. He stood up on surprisingly sturdy legs and let Will walk him back towards Richie. The song playing changed; it became slower and it tugged at something in Eddie’s stomach, and when Richie stopped dancing with his current partner and looked at Eddie, his eyes were soft and concerned and Eddie ached for him. 

“Can…” Eddie started, stopped, cleared his throat, and continued. “May I…can I do a dance cut in?”

“A dance cut in?”

“A dance cut in.”

“You don’t dance,” Richie said softly. “You never dance.”

“I wanna.” Eddie crossed his arms and glanced at Will, who shot him an encouraging smile. “May I? Please.” 

“Of course you can,” Richie’s dance partner said with a kind smile. He took a few steps back. “He’s all yours.” The man nodded at Will who smiled and cocked his head. They left. 

Eddie nodded, throat tight, and looked up at Richie. “I d’no how. This,” Eddie waved a pink tipped hand between their bodies and swayed, hiccupping. “Makes NO sense.”

“I know how, I’ve got you,” Richie said. He pulled Eddie in close, his hands steady and sure. “This is a slow one, so…just hold my waist. Like that, exactly. ”

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist and leaned into him. He buried his face against Richie’s chest and holds him tightly, his eyes screwed shut. He felt Richie’s hands glide over his hair and down his back and then Richie was holding him back, just as tight. He took one of Eddie’s hands. “And you just move with the music, Eds.”

“Whaddit?”

“Wild Horses by The Sundays,” Richie answered. He brought a hand up and tilted Eddie’s face towards him. “You’re slammed, Eddie. You okay?”

“Mmhm,” Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s touch. “So okay with you.”

Richie laughed softly. “Yeah? I’m okay with you, I guess.” 

“I hate your father.”

“I know you do.”

“I told ‘im,” Eddie gazed up at Richie, wanting so badly to defend him from everybody in the world, but staring at the taller man, he could no longer find the rage. There was only love there. “What you are. What you mean. That he’s Satan.”

Richie laughed. “My hero.” He gave Eddie a little twirl and Eddie regretted it instantly. The world swam around him and he held Richie a little tighter, a little closer.

“S’you can forgive me then, if I’m your hero,” Eddie mumbled, pressing his face back into Richie’s chest and praying that the world would stop moving. “You c’take me back, baby. I wanna come home.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie held him tighter, and Eddie felt the impression of every one of his fingers against his back. “You’re too drunk to say stuff like that right now. We’ll talk tomorrow--“

“For closure. Idun wan’ closure,” Eddie whispered roughly. “I don’t…I _miss_ you.”

“I miss you too,” Richie admitted. “I miss you _so_ much.”

Eddie turned face back into Richie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he raised his hand up to wipe at his face, sniffling. “I’m so _sorry_ , ‘Chee.”

“And that’s a wrap,” Richie tugged Eddie gently and Eddie stumbled after him, his head spinning. “Let me take you back to your room, Eddie.”

“Wha’?”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you get sloppy,” Richie said gently. “Crying on the dance floor at somebody else’s wedding is a little messy.”

“Didn’ even getta dance,” Eddie slurred. 

“I’ll owe you one,” Eddie hummed and tripped over his feet, stumbling wildly and pinwheeling his arms. “Yikes, Eddie,” Richie caught him, grimacing. He hauled Eddie up into his arms and Eddie immediately snuggled into Richie, wrapping his legs around his waist. 

“You smell _so_ good,” Eddie groaned. He let Richie carry him inside, his head buried against the other man’s neck. “God, Richie.”

“Mm, don’t I just?” Richie chuckled. “’The Sweet Smell of Aftershave, and What It Does to Men’. That’ll be the title of my autobiography.”

“Like pine trees, like the time we went skiing two years ago…So beautiful,” Eddie whispered to Richie, his face tilted up so that he could be soft and direct, right into Richie’s ear. “Most b’ful man I’ve ever seen. Foxy as hell.”

“As much as I’d like to kill my dad right now, this is _amazing_ for my ego,” Richie said, and Eddie could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m mentally recording this for posterity, you know.”

“Don’t kill ‘im, and quit remembering so much,” Eddie said. He arched up and sucked Richie’s earlobe into his mouth. “Fuck me instead, ‘Chee.”

“A-ah,” Richie gasped. He switched Eddie to his other side, blushing fiercely. Eddie watched him mercilessly jab at the elevator button. “No way, Eds. You’re trashed.” 

“So?”

“So I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re drunk?” Richie poked the tip of his finger into Eddie’s nose. “No power on this earth will move me from that decision.”

“Ev’n if I said I could ride you,” Eddie whispered, one hand gliding over Richie’s chest. “Y’could take me from behind, I’ll suck you off…You can have me anyway you’d like.” 

“Alright, Jesus,” Richie mumbled, flustered. He carried Eddie into the elevator and kicked at the button for their floor. “Cool it down. It’s not happening tonight.”

“You said you missed me!”

“I do miss you,” Richie said. He turned to look at Eddie. There was a war of emotions on his face and Eddie felt dizzy looking at him, unable to focus on any one feature at a time. “I miss you every day. But this isn’t right, sweetpea,” Richie rested their foreheads together and Eddie felt tears welling up in his eyes. “You wouldn’t be saying any of this is you hadn’t had all of that to drink.”

“But I _mean_ it,” Eddie insisted, tears rolling down his cheeks. “God, Richie, I fucked up so _bad_. I-I have to make it up to you, I have to--” 

“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry,” Richie said softly. He squeezed Eddie closer and swayed with him softly. “Please don’t cry, Eddie. This isn’t how we fix things. We’ll figure everything out. ”

“But I already ruined everything,” Eddie hiccupped, wiping at his face with both hands. 

“I mean, the heroin had to have been at least a contributing factor,” Richie smiled weakly. “Shhh,” he raised a long hand and combed back through Eddie’s neat hair. “Calm down for me a little bit, lovebug.” 

Eddie let out a weak wail and buried his face against Richie’s neck, clutching at his shoulders. “ _Richie_!!”

Richie rubbed his back and let Eddie cry. “Shhh, sweetheart, baby, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Eddie heaved and hiccupped and felt his stomach churn and roll with his displeasure, and he groaned when the elevator stopped short, feeling suddenly quite ill. 

“Uh-oh,” Richie grumbled. He sprinted out of the elevator, one hand rummaging for his key and the other scooped around Eddie. He stopped short in front of his door, unlocking it and letting himself in just in time for Eddie to heave again and vomit, all over both of their fronts. “Ahh, fuck.”

“Ohhh,” Eddie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I…I’m so- _hggk_!” And he went again, spilling out into the tightly held space in between him and Richie. 

“Shit shit shit shit, uhm- okay. Here,” Richie ran into his bathroom and lowered the sticky, weeping, puke covered mess that was Eddie Kaspbrak beside the toilet. “Aim in there.” Eddie did, mercifully, when he threw up again only moments later. “Alright! Stay right there. Don’t move, don’t move.”

“As if I could,” Eddie moaned and threw up again. He heard shuffling behind him, and a wet smacking sound, running, and Richie was in a clean pair of boxers and kneeling beside him and rubbing his back. “I’m so sorr--“

“Shh, it’s okay,” Richie said. Eddie hiccupped and wiped his face. “Oh, Eddie.” Eddie groaned, long and low, and let his forehead press against the cool rim of the toilet.

His memory was dark and spotty after that, but he remembered throwing up at least twice more. It was painful and incredibly embarrassing, and he cried the whole time. 

He remembered Richie wiping his mouth and feeding him tiny sips of water in between his bouts of vomit. “You’re doing great,” Richie said, his voice a grounding beacon while the world rolled around Eddie like a ship capsizing. “I’m right here, just get it out, baby.”

He remembered Richie helping him out of his soiled clothes and wiping him down with a damp washcloth and towel, re-dressed in his own sweats and a ratty blue t-shirt. His contacts were out and his glasses were on, and he looked exhausted and gorgeous as he cleaned Eddie’s neck. He whispered words of encouragement the whole time, cupping Eddie’s cheek and being so, so gentle. “Alright, honey?”

“Alright, ‘Chee,” Eddie murmured.

_He remembered coming home and Richie was in the bathroom on the floor, puke in a puddle under his downturned face and a needle stuck in his bruised up twig of an arm. He remembered calling 911 with one hand and screaming into the cordless phone. They told him “clear his airway with your fingers, sir, chest compressions and breathe in, chest compressions and breathe and breathe and breathe”. Eddie did. They told him to bring Richie into the shower and turn on the spray, hold him, talk to him. He did. Take out the needle and undo the tourniquet. He stayed there shivering and listening to Richie moan out “baby, Eddie” until the paramedics kicked down his door and took his boyfriend away. He cried when Richie reached back for him, and he hated him, and he loved him, and he hated himself._

“Can you stand on your own?” Richie said softly and Eddie blinked rapidly, dizzy. He nodded, reconsidered, and then he shook his head. “Okay, just sit- nope, here, sweetheart, on the floor. Perfect. I’m going to lay you back now.”

“We’re fuckin’?” Eddie groaned. 

Richie laughed, sudden and sharp. “No. I don’t want you to fall and crack that handsome skull open when I get you something to sleep in.”

“Handsome,” Eddie echoed, grinning hazily. “You think I’m handsome, Richie.”

“Surprising no one. I’ll be just one minute, hang on.”

Eddie laid on his back and closed his eyes. The cool tile of the hotel bathroom floor felt good, amazing, and when he heard Richie padding back into the bathroom he smiled. “’Chee,” he mumbled, stretching up his arms. 

“Here, honey,” Richie’s warm hands found Eddie’s middle and he tugged him up, slowly. “Arms up,” he slid a t-shirt over Eddie’s upraised arms. “Good. Alright, c’mon.”

“Lift with ya’legs,” Eddie cautioned and Richie laughed again as he hefted Eddie up into his arms. 

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” the taller man grinned. He carried Eddie over to his bed and set him down. He paused, and ran his fingers back through Eddie’s sweaty hair, pushing it off of his face. 

“I love you,” Eddie whispered, looking up at Richie. Richie swallowed and nodded. 

“D’you need some water?” Richie asked in lieu of responding, his face flushed. He ran a thumb over Eddie’s cheek, just under his eye, and traced from freckle to freckle. 

“’Morrow.”

“Really, you mean later on today,” Richie sat down in the bedside armchair. He pulled his hand back but Eddie grabbed him, kissing over his long fingers.

“Don’leave me tonight,” Eddie said. “Please. I deserve it, but I’m begging you--” 

“I won’t,” Richie assured him. He slipped his fingers into Eddie’s and squeezed, tightly. “Fall asleep. I’ll be right here when you get up.”

“Think…you’ll wanna take me back?” Eddie mumbled, his eyes already closed. “Be my boyfriend ‘gain?” But he was asleep before his could register Richie’s firm, soft reply.

* * *

Eddie woke up around four am with a swollen, dry tongue and a head that felt like a marching band, a military tank, and the cast of STOMP were trying to occupy it all at once. He groaned, rubbed his forehead, and tried to ignore the feeling of absolute death that permeated his whole body. 

He sat up in tiny measures. Richie was slung back in his chair, his head awkwardly canted to the side while he blinked hazily. “Eddie, baby,” he murmured. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, scratching at the five o’clock shadow on his neck. 

“Richie,” Eddie opened his arms and Richie climbed into bed immediately. They fell into a sweet, sleepy embrace like it was second nature. 

“Still sleeping,” Richie mumbled, his eyes already closed again. He pulled Eddie against his chest and buried his face into the pillow. Eddie closed his eyes and snuggled in tight. “Missed you. Love you.”

Eddie nodded and fell back to sleep, easily and dreamlessly.

* * *

When Eddie woke up again, closer to eight this time, he felt better. His head was throbbing and his body was aching like he had the flu, but there were strong, warm arms wrapped around him, and long legs entwined in his own. Without opening his eyes, Eddie pressed his face in and inhaled, and knew that it was Richie. 

“Mmn,” Eddie groaned, holding a hand up to his forehead firmly. Richie’s arms twitched, and Eddie felt him stir and let go. 

“Eds,” Richie mumbled. He squeezed Eddie and Eddie hugged him back, clinging to the sleep fugue that allowed them to be together with no discussion and no hesitation. “Sleep well?”

“No,” Eddie said; his voice was hoarse and barely there. “But, maybe better than I have in six months.” 

Richie tilted Eddie’s chin up and Eddie felt his breath hitch. Richie searched him for a long moment; his eyes roaming over Eddie’s face, the smaller man’s chin tucked in between his index finger and thumb. “Yeah,” Richie said. “Yeah, me too.” He dipped his head in and closed his eyes and Eddie snapped his neck back, a hand flying up to cover his mouth. Richie opened his eyes, looking so confused that Eddie almost laughed. “Am I doing something wrong? I thought you--”

Eddie was wide-eyed and pink. He shook his head. “No, you’re reading me, I…I…have _awful_ vomit morning breath, Rich, please don’t kiss me, it’s disgusti--“

Richie laughed and smiled brightly, relief scattered over his face. “Okay. I might like it, though?” He leaned in again and Eddie practically bent back in half to avoid the taller man, gagging. 

“Stoooooop,” he whined. Richie was laughing again and before too long Eddie was too. “You- ah!” Richie tugged him close and hugged him again, kissing his forehead before Eddie could stop him, just a quick smack of his lips. “Richie!”

“So cute,” Richie sat up and groaned. “Mmm, I’d say I’m sore, but I know I have nothing on you,” Richie tilted his head back, wincing, and Eddie heard his neck give a loud, disobedient pop. “How’re you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Nice, but how are you really?”

Eddie shrugged, knotting his hands into his borrowed shirt. “Really?” Richie nodded. “I feel like an ass,” he said. “I’m so _sorry_ , Rich. Last night was so humiliating, I’m so embarrassed, and you must be too, Christ, I was crying on the dance floor--”

“Nah,” Richie smiled. It made his eyes warm and Eddie’s heart missed a beat. “I’ve put you through worse.” He had, over and over again, and they both knew it. 

“I…” Eddie covered his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know if I was a jerk, or if there’s a stronger, more appropriate word. I ruined the wedding for you.”

“Psssh, you know I’d do anything to get me some of that sweet Eddie-on-toilet action,” Richie said solemnly. 

“You’re fucking gross.”

“Oh, baby,” Richie cooed. He hopped out of the bed and squeezed Eddie’s calf. “Lemme get you a perk up. Want anything? A water? My Dad’s head on a pike?” Eddie heard him rummaging around, and a faucet running. 

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned and rubbed his face. A fragment of memory struck him like lightening. “Oh my _God_ , I ruined your suit.”

“Yours too,” Richie said cheerily. “Here you go,” Eddie opened his eyes and held out his hands for the proffered glass of water. “Take small sips and we’ll get you some ibuprofen with breakfast, okay?”

“Thanks, Richie. I’ll…I’ll pay for your suit.” 

“No, I’m gonna keep it,” Richie slid onto the bed and bumped his shoulder into Eddie’s. “Gonna wear it on my next date with your mom. I’ll be irresistible.”

“Ugh, beep beep,” Eddie grinned in spite of himself and Richie smiled back. Their foreheads brushed together. 

“I’ll pay for my room, too?” Eddie whispered, his statement coming out like a question. “And my plane tickets.” 

“I didn’t know grad students on a stipend were made of money,” Richie said. “Let me get it.”

“Richie--“

“Pay me back in increments,” Richie said. “You can take me to dinner, if you want to.”

Eddie’s heart jumped up into his throat. “D-dinner?”

“D-dinner,” Richie confirmed, a smile curling over his mouth. “If you want to when we get back, you can ask me out.” Eddie felt his cheeks heat up and he stared at Richie. “I’ll say yes,” Richie added, softly. 

Eddie took both of Richie’s hands and Richie tilted his head. After a moment of feather light hesitation, he grazed his lips over Eddie’s cheek, his nose, and his forehead. Eddie stuttered out a breath and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, and kissed his temple. Richie pulled him into his lap, his hands huge and sure on Eddie’s back, and they held each other in silence while Eddie kissed the side of Richie’s face over and over again. 

Richie tilted his head back and brushed the tip of his nose over Eddie’s. “Still wanna have that talk?”

“I think we should,” Eddie said, covering his mouth again. “I want to shower first? And brush my teeth, god.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded. He moved to let go and then hugged Eddie instead, tightly. “Take your time. You can come back over when you’re ready?”

“Can I just shower here?”

“Yeah, sure,” Richie said. He pressed his cheek to Eddie’s and pulled back. “I’ll have to go find my toothpaste in your room, isn’t that some sweet irony? I might steal those shorts you brought, too. Think they’ll fit me?”

“You’re a monster,” Eddie laughed, and regretted it when the resulting vibrations sent a buzzing throb ricocheting through his skull. He whined at it and Richie helped him stand up. “My room key’s in my wallet.” 

Richie smiled and bowed his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked on the verge of saying something but he only winked at Eddie, walking backwards to the pile of their things that he’d managed to salvage the night before. 

Eddie felt light while he showered, like he was scrubbing himself clean of every mistake he’d made the night before and over the last six months. He washed his hair with Richie’s shampoo and conditioner and he smiled the whole while. 

“Knock knock,” he heard Richie say. He poked his head out of the shower and saw the back of Richie’s head, his arm craned back into the bathroom behind him. “Clean underwear and a toothbrush and toothpaste delivered by me; Richie Tozier, the very best.”

Eddie giggled. “Thanks. Put it down, please? You don’t happen to have a spare razor?” Eddie rubbed his chin and neck. “I’d like to clean up.”

“You don’t have to shave your pubes for me, Eddie, I like ‘em wild.”

“ _Richie_. My face.”

“Use my razor.”

“I will not. That’s disgusting, it’s like sharing a toothbrush.”

“Eddie,” Eddie could hear Richie laughing, and the sound was _music_. “I have literally jizzed in your mout--“

“ _Goodbye_ , Richie. I’ll be out soon.”

“Roger that, chhk,” Richie made a radio static sound and bent down awkwardly, setting down his handful of Eddie’s possessions, good humor still laced tight through his tone. “Over and out, chhk.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click. 

Eddie turned off the shower and stepped gingerly onto the bathroom floor. There was a towel hanging, slightly damp- so, Richie had showered at some point after Eddie had passed out, before he’d climbed into bed- and Eddie wiped himself down with it. He pulled on his clean briefs and brushed his teeth with a biblical level of scrutiny, twice over. 

He found Richie’s medicine bag and opened it, sticking the toothpaste back inside. “Ibuprofen,” he mumbled to himself, rummaging around in the bag. “Ibuprof--“ His breath caught in his throat when he gripped two telltale prescription bottles. He looked at the door- still closed, he was still alone- and if this was--

_He stepped on them sometimes, tripped over them, the empty pill bottles made out to people that weren’t named ‘Richard W. Tozier’, when Richie was sleeping off a bender or angry or too buzzed out on the coke he’d take one pill, then two pills then four pills, all of the pills--_

\--but it wasn’t. Both bottles had Richie’s name on the labels in neat typeset. One was labeled “IBUPROFEN: 800MG”, and it was nearly full. The other was half empty. “Mirtazapine,” Eddie whispered, tracing his finger over the label. Everything made sense, suddenly; the little bottle explained everything from Richie’s even keel to his weight gain. Eddie was in reaching distance of a doctorate of psychology. He knew his anti-depressants. 

Eddie thought a million things while he held the little orange bottle. He was crushed, because he hadn’t been there, of course, and his negligence clattered in his heart like a broken front door, but…he felt relieved. Relieved and proud, because…Richie had needed more help than Eddie could give him for a long time, and he’d reached out for it, and he’d gotten it. 

He rubbed his thumb over Richie’s name on the label and resolved himself to be better than he had before. He had to be better. He had to be _better_.

Ibuprofen forgotten, he stowed away Richie’s medicine and re-zipped his bag. He walked out of the bathroom, his skin shower flushed, and he felt even warmer when Richie looked at him and smiled. 

“Can I borrow another shirt?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie bounced up and dug through his duffle bag. “Feel better?”

“Kind of,” Eddie admitted. He kneeled on the bed accepted a balled up lavender shirt. He tugged it on and flopped back onto the bed. Richie laid down beside him, on his side, his glasses crooked awkwardly, his hands restless in front of him. 

“That color looks good on you,” Richie said.

“Thanks,” Eddie smiled. “It’s not quite your shitty Seahawks shirt, though. That’s my favorite.”

“It’s really more your shitty Seahwaks shirt by now,” Richie chuckled. His tone changed suddenly, and his eyes, while still soft, went serious. “I don’t know if I can touch you or not,” he admitted.

“Rich--“

“Maybe I mean that I don’t know if I should,” he amended, smiling lightly. “It’s too charged right now.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “That’s fair,” he whispered. “But if you want to; you can, okay?”

“Okay.”

“…Can I start? Question and answer?” Richie nodded and Eddie steeled himself internally. “You’re clean?” 

“I’m clean,” Richie said softly. “I did thirty days of inpatient after you left. I haven’t touched anything in almost five months. Except, well, I still drink. I should quit that. My therapist tells me all the time and I know he’s right, but I’m not ready to.” 

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m proud of you, Richie,” he said, and he felt like that simple, stupid sentence couldn’t come close to revealing what was in his heart. 

“I wish I’d gone sooner. That’s all.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Eddie opened his eyes. “I thought you might be dead.”

Richie looked pained. “It was only like four days after I got out when I found out you were seeing somebody else,” he said. Eddie opened his mouth to interrupt him and Richie held up a hand. “No. It _hurt_. So I didn’t call, that’s why. Because thinking about it hurt so badly that I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I wasn’t seeing him,” Eddie said. “We just…it was only one date, one stupid fuck. It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“I believe you,” Richie said. “But you went on other dates with other guys.”

“Two others,” Eddie admitted. The honesty hurt, he saw it in Richie’s huge brown eyes, magnified behind his glasses, but he made himself say it anyway. “Months ago. I hated them both, and I saw them once each. That’s it. I could never get you off of my mind, Rich. I thought about you every day. Did…you see anybody else?” Somehow, Eddie knew the answer to this before Richie even spoke, and it cut him deeply for a reason that he couldn’t describe. 

“No,” Richie said softly. “No. There’s never been anybody but you, not since I turned eighteen, anyway. I’m…I’m ready to hold you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie choked out, and Richie enveloped him in a full, tight embrace, his hand behind Eddie’s head and their legs entwining. 

“You cheated on me,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s hair. Eddie nodded. “How many times?”

“Four times,” Eddie said. Richie held him tighter. 

“Same person?”

“Different people every time,” Eddie wiped his face. “Your castmate from Rent. And a stranger in the hospital cafeteria--”

“After I OD’ed?”

“Yes. And two drunk strangers,” Eddie said in a hushed tone. “Do you hate me for it?”

“I wish I could, sometimes. I’m not….I’m not going to sit here and pretend that it didn’t kill me, you know? Every time you came home with hickeys and…I wanted to hate you, Eddie.” Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I couldn’t, and I can’t, and I don’t want to anymore, but I _did_ want to.”

“I understand,” Eddie rubbed at his eyes again. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth….I’ll never stop trying to make it up to you. I hate that I did that to you, I…I’ve _loved_ you so much, for so long, and I never loved you any less, but I…I--“

“You were in a dark place,” Richie said. His voice was even and calm. “I know. I was there too. Did you hate me for using?”

Eddie looked up at Richie. “Sometimes,” he said. He carded his fingers back through Richie’s hair and Richie leaned into his touch. “I mostly just hated what it did to you.” 

“Me too,” Richie said, and Eddie watched his composure fracture and break apart, saw his eyes fill and watched his bottom lip quiver over the crack of his voice. “I hated myself enough for the both of us, honestly--” 

Eddie felt his lips connect with Richie’s before he even realized that he’d kissed him, and the effect was striking and instantaneous; they melted against each other, lips pressed, Eddie’s hands in Richie’s hair and Richie’s on Eddie’s back and his neck. It felt like fireworks, like water on a parched tongue, like every bit of poetry that Eddie had ever heard of or read because it felt like _Richie_ in his arms again, kissing him back like miracles were possible. 

Richie cradled the back of Edie’s head in both of his hands and parted his lips in a shuddering sigh while Eddie’s fingers worked magic against his scalp. When they parted, Eddie’s cheeks were wet, and Richie wiped away his tears with gentle brushes of his fingers on one side and feather light kisses on the other. 

“Please don’t cry,” Eddie whispered, the first thing that came to his mind, and he slid his hands down to wipe Richie’s cheeks. “Please.”

“Likewise. I hate it when you cry,” Richie mumbled, and they hugged again. “I only ever want to make you smile, Eds.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie looked up at Richie and it was like a dam breaking; they were kissing again, eyes closed and lost in the feeling of each other. Richie’s tongue traced Eddie’s bottom lip and he nipped at it, lightening fast, and Richie let out a hoarse, wanting sound. 

“Eddie,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “I…We still need to talk.” 

Eddie nodded. He sucked in his bottom lip and looked up at Richie; Richie groaned, the sound strangled in his throat, and lunged forward to seal their lips together again. He licked into Eddie’s mouth, exploring him and taking in his taste. Eddie felt the warm metal of the barbell in Richie’s tongue against him and he whimpered, putty in the taller man’s hands. 

“Ah- fuck, Rich, no,” he panted, hot underneath the collar of his borrowed shirt. “ _Talk_. We’re talking.” 

“We’re talking,” Richie breathed out. He pressed their foreheads together. “We’re talking.” But they didn’t for a long while; Eddie ran his hands over Richie’s shoulders and his face, the side of his neck, and Richie felt from Eddie’s biceps down to his hips, squeezing the narrow pull of his waist. “How much of what you said yesterday did you mean?”

“Lots of it,” Eddie said, looking over Richie’s face. “You _are_ the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

“Shaddup,” Richie said with a little grin. “You’re confusing ‘me’ with ‘looking in a mirror at yourself’--“

“Shut up, yourself, you know you’re gorgeous,” Eddie smiled, bowing his head. He felt strange and shy, almost newborn, like he’d never looked into Richie’s eyes and told him how handsome he was. “I meant it when I told you I miss you.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” Richie asked. “You know why I didn’t.”

“I thought I couldn’t take it if you were still using,” Eddie looked up at Richie, and ran his thumb over the man’s jawline. “I thought about not…about not being able to resist you. If you were still shooting up, and I called, and you asked me to come back, I would.”

Richie nodded. He ducked his head low and kissed Eddie’s thumb. “Can I tell you something without you taking it the wrong way and getting mad?”

“I mean, I’ll try.”

“I think that you leaving me was the best thing that ever happened,” Richie said, and then grimaced. “Not like that, wait. I think it saved my life, is what I mean. All of the times you threatened to go, and you never did, and I always thought ‘if Eds is still here, it can’t be _that_ bad’, and then you were gone and it almost killed me. And then it saved me- nononono, damn it, don’t,” Richie pulled a very suddenly crying Eddie back against his chest. 

“You’re sh-shitty at not making me cry, Richie,” Eddie hiccupped. He pressed his face into Richie’s chest and let himself be held, let his hair be stroked and kissed, and it felt like home. “What’s next?”

“Hmm?” Richie angled Eddie’s face up and kissed his forehead. 

“Next, what…what…” Eddie found himself unable to finish his thought. “Shut up.”

“Huh?”

“I was talking to myself,” Eddie said, and he pressed up and sealed his lips over Richie’s. 

Richie’s response was instantaneous and impassioned; he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed flush against him, parting his lips and sighing. He groaned when Eddie sucked on his bottom lip. “I haven’t kissed you in months,” he said, brows tightly knit over his closed eyes. “ _Months_ , Eds.”

“I feel like I have to relearn you,” Eddie said. He tilted his head and explored the long, slender line of Richie’s neck with his mouth. “Everything that makes you laugh, and makes you tick.”

“Yeah, pretty soon you’re gonna “relearn” what makes me hard as a fucking rock,” Richie moaned, and fuck, if that didn’t shoot straight to Eddie’s dick. 

“’Chee,” Eddie whispered, “What do you want me to do?” He sat up, low on his knees, and knotted his shirt between his fingers. Richie leaned back on his elbows and looked Eddie up slowly, his eyes half lidded. “I’ll do anything--“

“I wanna wait a little,” Richie said, even as the part of his lips and the bulge in his sweats disagreed. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie breathed. “Take it slow?”

“Yeah,” Richie grinned and nodded. “Lemme start by taking you to breakfast,” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and he blushed. Richie laughed and shook his head. “It’s not as cute as all that, lemme rephrase. Wanna be my date to the horrible family brunch I’m obligated to attend? Warning; more of my father and mother, with a possible side of me feeling you up under the table.”

“That reads like a shitty weather report,” Eddie said, but his stern act broke in a laugh as Richie pulled him backwards onto the bed. “I’ll pass.”

“Eddie! Just think of the scandal. You; unwed at the ripe old age of twenty-six, and me, available, in my most child bearing years! This is a great opportunity.”

Eddie laughed harder, kicking out his legs. “Get away from me, you hoeish peasant.”

Richie cackled. “Obviously, grad school has been great for your vocabulary.” Eddie giggled and squirmed, but Richie only squeezed him tighter. “Mmnm, no way, God,” he buried his face into the back of Eddie’s neck. “If you’re skipping brunch, I’m skipping fucking brunch.”

“No, we should go,” Eddie said. 

“Yeah? Well, maybe we can make a deal.” 

“Richie. It’s your brunch. You asked me to go.”

“So you’re saying you’ll listen to negotiations?”

“I don’t see why I have to negotiate at all--“

“I want you to paint my nails,” Eddie felt the shape of Richie’s smile on the skin in between his neck and shoulder and he fell in love again, right there. “I want ‘em to match yours. Okay?”

“Oh.”

“Deal?”

“Yes. Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS WOW With this chapter, Lovesong is OFFICIALLY OVER 100k WORDS wow I've sunk a lot of time into this. THANK YOU ALL for your tremendous support throughout this beast of a story, because I could never do it without your support. It means everything to me. Thank you thank you thank you <3
> 
> I hope you like it, I hope I'm not disappointing anybody with this chapter!
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter is up by next week because, I dunno about you guys, but I wanna see that brunch???
> 
> xoxoxo  
> waxganet


	4. Stop Breaking Down

“You think your dad’s going to be mad?”

Richie snorted and leaned on the elevator panel with his arms crossed. “Eddie, don’t tell me that’s even a concern in your sweet, sexy brain.”

“I don’t want to make things more embarrassing than they already are,” Eddie stood across from Richie, a hot flush rising on his cheeks. “I drank too fast, I cried on the dance floor, I threw up for hours--“

“Yeah, but I don’t think the guy in the room next to me minded,” Richie grinned. “He was a cutie, you shoulda seen. Short, tan, scrumptious little thing. I serenaded him all night long, day before yesterday, and I think he was impressed--”

“Actually, he hated that,” Eddie interrupted brightly. “And he told me to tell you that if you ever sing Abba for hours on end again, nobody will ever find your corpse.”

“I knew it,” When the bell went off to signal the arrival of the elevator, Richie pulled Eddie inside and tucked him against the far wall. Eddie reached past him and hit the ‘Lobby’ button. “Knew that boy was a fucking murderer.”

“Yeah, what gave him away?”

“Because, baby, he’s got a fucking _body_ ,” Richie chuckled. He leaned down and pressed his smiling lips to Eddie’s. 

“That’s the worst fucking thing you’ve ever said, not funny at all,” but Eddie’s hands were already threading back through Richie’s curls and they were kissing slowly. “Mm-hm!” Eddie gasped when Richie lifted him up and tilted his head to rub their noses together. “Go slow,” he reminded Richie.

“I know, I’m such a delicate lady,” Richie cooed. “But you’re not delicate Eds- and you’re no lady.” Eddie giggled and sighed while Richie started kissing his neck, the low hum of the elevator electric in his ears. 

“Richie,” Eddie wiggled. Richie smirked and looked at him, one brow raised. “Do NOT make me go out there with a boner, please, I’m humiliated enough.” 

“Oh blah blah blah, your needs,” But Richie was laughing, not petulant. He squeezed Eddie and snuggled into him, holding him almost effortlessly, until the elevator pinged. Richie twirled him twice, beaming, and carried him out. 

“Urk, no, no, no,” Eddie shoved at Richie’s shoulder and wiggled out of his arms, bouncing uneasily on his white tennis shoes. “I am NOT ready to be spun around, no way.”

“You okay?” Richie rubbed Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Just hungover, still, I’m okay.”

“Hungover gonna ralph, hungover seasick, or hungover ‘I just can’t look at runny eggs’?”

“Somewhere between the second and third option. I still want an omelet for breakfast, though.”

Richie grinned. “See, Eds, that’s what I like about you, you’re so daring--“

“Hey!” Eddie turned; Will was behind him, looking like he’d never had a drop to drink in his life. He had a mug of coffee in his hands and a cheerful look on his face. “Good morning. Um,” he smiled at Eddie and ran a hand nervously through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” Eddie said. He shoved down the nasty, guilt-thick feeling in his chest; on the whole, Will Byers had been nothing but lovely to him. He had no reason to snap and lash out. He swallowed back his pride, wholly surprised by the effort that it took to do so. “Can I have a second?” He asked Richie. 

“Of course,” Richie smiled. “I’ll get us seats.” He walked away, whistling, nudging Will’s shoulder as he passed by. Will smiled at him, and then turned his curious blue eyes onto Eddie. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said. He felt himself starting to get red and he cringed at it. Saying an apology- a _deserved_ apology- shouldn’t be such a big deal. “I was so rude to you the last two days, and you didn’t deserve it. I was dealing with a lot, but that’s no excuse, and I’m _really_ sorry for it. Especially last night, I was a mess, and what I asked you was highly innapp--”

“If it helps, I’ve heard way worse than anything you said to me,” Will smiled gently. “And I’ve been through a lot worse than being the sidebar in a lovers’ quarrel.” He held out his hand magnanimously and Eddie shook it, gratefully. “Richie’s not my type, by the way. He’s very handsome, but he’s a little too much for me.” 

“He’s a lot sometimes, yeah,” Eddie smiled. “But I tend to think he’s the right amount of whatever he is.”

Will laughed. “To each their own,” he squeezed Eddie’s hand and let him go. “It really was nice to meet the both of you.”

“Likewise,” Eddie said, and meant it. “Maybe we’ll all get together again soon and I can really get to know you.”

“I’d like that,” Will beamed. “But I’ll settle for breakfast for now. Ah, Mike!”

“Hi,” Mike rushed towards them and pulled Will into a tight, long hug, a gesture that Will returned wholeheartedly. “Hey, buddy,” Mike smiled and pulled back. Eddie caught the edge of their touch and their look, and was quietly enamored by the sheer amount of affection between them. 

“Congratulations Mister Hopper,” Will grinned and squeezed Mike’s arms. “You look so happy.”

“I am,” Mike smiled bashfully. “And just because El stayed Hopper doesn’t mean that I can’t stay Wheeler. We don’t have to match.” 

“As long as you’re in looooooove,” Will laughed. He grabbed both of Mike’s hands and squeezed and Mike leaned in, settling his chin on top of Will’s head. Eddie felt a heartache, suddenly, sharp and distant. He had only ever had Richie, and they’d almost always been in love. He couldn’t imagine having a group of friends like Mike and his groomsmen; loving and supportive, constantly orbiting each other. He yearned for it in the deepest and most quiet place in his heart. 

_We were just never the type to have anybody but each other, I guess_ , Eddie thought wistfully.

And then Richie was behind him, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and resting his chin on top of Eddie’s head, mirroring Mike. Eddie leaned back into his chest and listened to his heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump, humanity’s most basic music, and so what if they didn’t have anybody else? They had each other. It was enough. 

“Sweetheart,” Richie mumbled, burying his face in Eddie’s hair. 

“Hi, you,” Eddie whispered. He tilted his head back and looked up. 

“I was talking to Mike, actually,” Richie kissed his forehead. “But good to know you’re paying attention.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie grumbled. He wiggled out of Richie’s arms, scowling. 

“All the way off,” Mike said firmly. “If you don’t tell him to fuck all of the way off then he’ll come right the hell back.”

“Hell!” Richie gasped and staggered back, covering his mouth with one tremulous hand while his other clutched over his heart. “Hell, jiminy cricket, Michael, land sakes! My stars and garters!” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Such vile words from such a sweet, sweet boy--“

“ _Please_ ,” Mike groaned. He pressed his hands together and turned to Eddie, begging. “Make him stop. Let me enjoy my first morning as a married man without this bullshit critique of my vocabulary.” 

“Oh,” Will tugged on Mike’s shirtsleeve and Mike looked at him, covering Will’s hand with his own. “Speaking of.” They looked towards the elevators and the agitation melted off of Mike’s face, swapped out seamlessly by a look of unadulterated adoration.

“El,” Mike breathed, smiling, and he ran to his new wife. El beamed and they caught each other and held on. Her hands cupped his face and he pressed their foreheads together and kissed her cheeks and her nose and her smiling mouth. 

“Good morning,” El whispered to Mike and she turned a beatific smile to the rest of them. Her face was flushed and bright. “Richie, Will, Eddie. How are you?”

“Literally devastated that you didn’t marry me,” Richie wailed, opening his arms. El laughed, hugging him, and Richie lifted her and pressed the tip of his long nose into her cheek. She blushed and laughed, pushing at his shoulders. “Any chance for a redo?”

“Fuck all of the way the fuck off, Tozier,” Mike grumbled, but there was a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

“Oooh, _LANG-GUAGE_!” Richie yelled with a roll of his eyes and a catty cock of his hips and, to Eddie’s shock, Mike burst out laughing. Richie grinned. “Yeah? That’s a good one?”

“Almost too good,” Mike chuckled. 

“Imitating his uncle, Mike’s dad,” Will explained to Eddie quickly.

“Ah,” Eddie nodded. 

“Just tell me that you still think I’m more handsome,” Richie returned his attention to El. He squeezed her around the middle and let her down and she shot him a light punch in the arm for his troubles. 

“Well,” El suddenly smiled cheekily. “Hi, dad.”

“Dad!” Richie beamed, looking over at Eddie. “I have FINALLY ascended to Dad. When are you gonna pick up on this trend and start calling me Daddy?”

“Never, Rich.”

“Your mom calls me Daddy--“

“ _Choke_ , Tozier--“

“No,” Will said, laughing. “El’s actual dad.”

“Oh,” Richie turned around. A burly man was striding towards them, looking a strange combination of happy and exhausted. “Hi! We’ve never met. I’m auditioning for the role of your next son in law. Any helpful hints? Tips?” He slung his arms around El’s shoulder and had to crouch astonishingly low to press his cheek to hers. 

El’s father looked at Richie with a wary and calculating eye. He looked at El, and then at Richie again. Mike. Richie. And then he turned and walked right into the hotel restaurant without saying a word to any of them. 

“He likes you, I think,” El said cheerfully. 

“It’s hard to tell with him,” Mike agreed. 

After convincing Richie to let El go (which he did with loud and grave reluctance) the five of them walked into the breakfast hall. Mike and El were greeted with a resounding roar of applause and El beamed, soaking it all in, while Mike stood beside her bashfully. 

“I think she saved my life once,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear when they broke away. His breath was warm and minty, and Eddie shivered. “Do you remember?”

“You fell in the quarry, I think,” Eddie looked up at Richie. “Maybe you were fucking around at the top? I want to say she gave you…CPR? You hit your head? Something like that.”

“Seems legit,” Richie smiled. He tucked his head down and kissed Eddie’s lips softly. “We fucked in the shower later on, I remember that much.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie groused. 

“If we’re going to go _slow_ , honey, then all I have are my precious recollections and my spank bank--“

“Soon you’ll have an omelet, so you can stop fucking talking about sex while I’m in a room with your whole goddamn family--“

“What kind of old fucking lady gets an omelet, Eds, seriously, it’s french toast or the highway--“

“Gentlemen!” The voice of Wentworth Tozier boomed out suddenly, and it seemed to come from every corner of the banquet hall. “How are we feeling today? Especially you, little man,” he laughed and patted Eddie’s shoulder with a gesture that was more violent than friendly. 

“I was okay until you started screaming in my ear,” Eddie snipped. Richie slipped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie reached up, linking their hands casually, loving the way that their nailpolish matched. 

“Mhmm, well,” Went chuckled. “You certainly can hold your own kiddo, impressive.”

Eddie chose not to bring up the spectacular feat of vomiting from last night. “So I’ve been told.” Richie squeezed his hand. 

“Well, well,” Went sucked his teeth and nodded. “Just figured I’d catch you boys and let you know we’re on our way right after breakfast; Mags isn’t feeling very well, she’s laid up in our room.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Eddie said. “Travel safely.” 

“Good to see you, Ed,” Went ruffled his hair. He turned and walked off, whistling, his hands in the pockets of his khakis and his affect sunny and bright.

“Richie,” Eddie said. Richie was silent, staring at the omelet station with an absent expression on his face. “Sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, soft, and Richie looked at him with a wan smile. 

“Sorry,” Richie rubbed his thumb over Eddie’s hand. “Sorry, sorry.” 

“He’s a prick,” Eddie folded himself against Richie’s chest and leaned up. Richie’s arm around his shoulders melted into a half hug and Eddie released his hand in favor of slipping his arms around Richie’s waist. “He ignored you to rile you up. You know that, ‘Chee.”

“Mmm, call me ‘Chee again,” Richie whispered, pressing his lips to Eddie’s. “Call me ‘Chee over and over again.”

“’Chee,” Eddie smiled, and Richie kissed him again. “Mmn, ‘Chee.” Richie smiled back, pecking his lips again, and Eddie finally thought that the expression was genuine. 

“Missed your voice,” Richie said. 

“Missed your lips,” Eddie let his eyes close and Richie kissed him again, languid and sweet. “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Richie said. “I’m sorry for giving you every reason to go. Mostly I’m sorry that we’re blocking the omelet station,” Eddie blinked out of his reverie as Richie tugged him aside, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, Aunt Karen.”

“No, Richie, you’re fine,” Eddie looked past Richie’s shoulder; an older woman stood behind him with a halo of curly, dirty blonde hair. Nancy, the bridesmaid from the night before, stood beside her. She shot Eddie a smile and a wink, and Karen smiled too; she was stunning in her own way, and had the look of a homegrown prom queen who had aged, and would continue to age, gracefully. “Come here, you got so tall.”

“Taller than Mike, did you see?” Richie let go of Eddie and hugged his aunt, kissing her cheek. “Eddie, this is my mom’s sister, Karen. This is Eddie Kaspbrak, my…my date.”

“Hello,” Karen said, smiling. Eddie held out his hand and Karen laughed and rolled her eyes. “No, we hug.” 

“Oh,” was all that Eddie had time to say before Karen was hugging him. Her arms were deceptively strong and very warm. 

“Now, then,” She stepped back, smiling, and surveyed them. “You make a lovely picture together. Especially when you aren’t blocking breakfast.”

Richie laughed. It was a joyful sound. “Aunt K, hey; do you ever want another son that looks just like your first one, only slightly upgraded?”

“No, thank you,” Nancy piped in immediately. 

Karen took a moment longer than her daughter to answer. She surveyed Richie with a light smile and soft eyes; she’d been able to parse Richie’s tone, Eddie realized, and to separate the humor from the shallow wanting underneath his words. “Rich,” she said. “You’re _always_ welcome in our home.”

Richie beamed. “Thanks, K. I mean, you’re always welcome in my studio apartment in downtown Seattle. I’ll even clean for you.”

“And he cleans for nobody else,” Eddie added brightly. 

Karen laughed and smiled. “Enjoy your morning, boys.” 

“Whaddup, bitch,” Richie punched Nancy’s shoulder when she passed him by.

“Douche nozzle,” she greeted him in trade, and they slapped each other a low five. “Nice nails.”

“Eddie did ‘em,” Richie puffed out his chest proudly, displaying both hands. “You like?”

Nancy smirked and held out her own hands. Eddie extended his too; all three of them wore the same soft, pastel pink shade. “I like them very much.”

“It’s a really subpar manicure, I think,” Richie sniffed, examining his hands critically. “It’s all wrinkled on this one and smudged up on this one. Eddie gets an A for effort, sure, but his technique is really sloppy at best--“

“Bite me, Richie.”

“Maybe after breakfast, if we get bored on the plane,” Richie raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Time will tell.”

“Hopefully, time never discloses that much information.” Nancy rolled her eyes with a smile and followed after her mother. 

* * *

On the plane, they put their seats back as far as they would go, heedless of the poor passengers behind them, and shoved the armrest in between them up and out of the way. They curled up and faced each other; Richie with his legs crossed, Eddie curled up with his knees up to his chest. 

They held hands and touched each others’ faces and necks. Richie bit playfully at the tips of Eddie’s fingers when they ghosted over his lips and Eddie breathed out an almost silent sound and tilted his head back, his eyes half closed, when Richie ran one hand over the side of his neck, and the fingers of his other over Eddie’s adam’s apple. 

They both refused drinks. 

“I have plans tonight with Lettie and Jesse,” Richie said softly, thirty minutes before they landed. “Or, honestly, I’d--“

“Go out to dinner with me,” Eddie interrupted. Richie gave him a strange look.

“I mean, I would, hell yeah, but like I said--”

“No, I’m asking you out,” Eddie grimaced. He realized with an astounding sense of dread that he’d never had to ask anybody on a date before, and he felt his insides clench and squirm with nervous flickers because _what if_. “Go out to dinner with me, some other time this week. I’m teaching summer courses right now Monday through Thursday but I’m free every night and weekends. And I owe you a dinner.”

“Oooh, nothing sexier than being _owed_ a dinner,” Richie smirked and Eddie felt a dark, creeping flush spread down past his collarbones. 

“Asshole, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Anywhere I want?”

“Richie, yes, I’m asking you out. You pick.”

“I want to eat at your mother’s. Can I get a table in between her legs?”

“Oh god, I fucking hate you,” Eddie grumbled. He made to roll over but Richie pulled him back, kissing over his stern frown until it started to melt away.

“No, you don’t.”

“Fucking wish I could,” Eddie whined. “For real, if you don’t stop talking about my mom, I _will_ kill you.”

“Mm, do it,” Richie’s tone was as warm as his mouth when he pressed it against Eddie’s, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. “I’d love it, baby, fuck me right up.”

Eddie snickered and ran his hands back through Richie’s hair. “Maybe if you’re good at dinner, I’ll murder you. My treat.”

“The best treat,” Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck. “Wanna call me to make plans? Like to finalize everything, obviously, I’m saying yes to you right now.”

“Yes,” Eddie smiled, and they kissed again while the plane began its final decent into Seattle, the stars blinking amongst hazy clouds outside of their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by an absurd amount of free-time today, I give you a shorter than usual, transitional chapter four :) There are now going to be six chapters in this part, total. 
> 
> Thank you guys, as always, for your amazing feedback! It keeps me strong and motivated!! 
> 
> Happy day-early Hannukah to any fellow celebraters or Jewish peeps out there! I'm Jewish and I DO celebrate, so I hope you guys take this early update and the extra chapter as my little holiday gift to you. The next chapter will probably still be up in the middle of the weak or so, as usual. 
> 
> As always, enjoy! 
> 
> xoxoxo  
> waxagent


	5. Under The Milky Way

**_A week and a half after the wedding._ **

“Hey Annie!” Eddie was racing around the apartment, tying up his tie. “Did, um…did I get any calls?”

Annie popped her head out of the bathroom; she had a towel wrapped around her body and another wrapped around her hair. They didn’t even look twice at each other. “No? Your mom called last Sunday while you were in Indiana, but I let it go to voicemail.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. She thought I’d died.”

“Well, it’s your fault that you didn’t tell her you were going out of town.”

“It slipped my mind. You could have talked to her, you know, she likes you.”

“Eddie,” Annie deadpanned. “I love you but I will NOT talk to your mother for you.”

Eddie paused and nodded. “That’s…that’s fair. Very fair.”

“Why were you wondering about messages anyway? I would write it down if I talked to somebody for you.”

“I, well,” Eddie poured himself a travel mug of orange juice. “I was hoping that Richie had called.”

“Of course,” Annie smirked, gliding into her room. “Of _course_ this mini hurricane is about _Richie_.”

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled, going bright red. 

“I thought you were supposed to call him.” 

“I am!” Eddie shouted back. “I…I was.” He screwed the cap onto his mug, and frowned intensely at nothing. “I forgot our old phone number.”

“What?” Annie shouted from her room.

“I said that I forgot our old phone number!” Eddie shouted back, embarrassed. “It’s like somebody ripped it out of my head! It’s blank where it used to be.”

Annie walked out of her room, a concentrated frown on her face. She was wearing a mint green maxi dress. Her hair was nearly white and her skin was freckly and sun kissed. They had spent almost every weekend at the beach together, and they were both tanner and blonder for it. Eddie loved it; he craved the sun and the sand and the mindless roar and crash of the ocean like nothing else. He thought of Malibu every time they went and every time it left him confused. He had never been to California. “So? Go over there.”

“It’s too forward,” Eddie said petulantly. 

Annie rolled her eyes and threw her towel at him. Eddie dodged. “I’m not telling you to go over and choke on his dick, Eddie, I’m telling you to go over and make _dinner plans_.” She smiled sweetly at him, a startling contrast to her colorful words. “And you can swallow him down after that with all of the grace and ease you’d like.”

“Shut up,” Eddie snapped. He ran a hand over his face. 

“It’s been a week and a half, Eddie. I don’t know what you’re waiting for but…I think you’re leaving him hanging too long.”

“I’m waiting for him to call. He’s leaving me hanging, too, just as much.”

“You can do that if you’re more comfortable,” Annie said. “You gave him our phone number, right?”

“I think…I think I did,” Eddie lapsed into thought for a while, his face blank and remembering. “ _Shit_. No. No, I fucking didn’t. Goddamn it!”

“Oh,” Annie said, concern arching over her expression. “Well- we could go to one of his shows. You could find him there.”

“They get packed now, people love them. I’ll never find him in that mess. Fuck it all to hell. Hang on,” Eddie grumbled, grabbing his classroom keys and shoving them into his back pocket with his wallet. “Do I look okay?” He ran a quick hand back through his wavy hair and spread his arms. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him; pressed khakis, a forest green button down with the sleeves rolled up, a grey tie, and brown loafers.

“I think you look fine, but you could start coordinating your colors a little better,” Annie said kindly. “But yes, earth tones suit you. You look very summery. Freckly. Cute as a button.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie tugged nervously on his right earlobe and toyed with the hoop there before coming to a quick decision. “Still doing dinner?”

“Yep. You’ll be back at 2?”

“Grocery shopping, give me until 2:30.” He grabbed his orange juice and caught the kiss that Annie blew him.

“Have a good day, honey, I love you,” she cooed, laughter breaking up the end of her sentence. 

“Fuck you!” Eddie called back. He rushed out of their apartment and, thanks to his luck and his piercing whistle, hailed a taxi almost instantly. “Morning, I’m sorry. I’m going to need two stops.”

* * *

Eddie lunged up the stairs to Richie’s apartment- formerly, their apartment- two at a time. He paused in front of the door, his OJ in one hand and a steaming paper cup of coffee in the other. “Shit,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck me.” Resigned and sighing, he bowed his head and whacked it against the door lightly, three times.

“Hang on!” He heard Richie’s muffled voice call to him from inside and his heart kicked into overdrive, racing in his chest. “Hey--“ Richie opened up the door and blinked, his face completely shocked. “Eds?” He was in a t-shirt and sweats and Eddie quickly categorized his whole appearance; tall and lean and tattooed, a big, shocked smile and bigger eyes, widened behind his glasses. Messy hair in a bun. He logged every detail away like he was in danger of forgetting it.

“Morning, Rich.”

“I…I was expecting a call, and this is the sexiest telegraph I’ve ever received.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, his cheeks going red. “I brought you coffee.” He thrust out the to-go mug. “Black and three sugars?”

Richie was nearly speechless. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Come in.” He stepped aside and Eddie walked in after him, toeing off his shoes at the door. “I didn’t clean or anything, I didn’t know you’d be coming by. Fuck. You brought me coffee?”

“I brought you coffee. I’m sorry that I didn’t call, but I hope you like it; I know you aren’t too picky, but--”

“No matter what it tastes like, I’ll love it,” Richie smiled. He looked tremendously happy. “Good morning kiss?”

“Free with the coffee.”

Richie bent down and brushed his lips over Eddie’s, sweet and light, and Eddie was unprepared for the volley of wanting and adrenaline and _love_ that hit him in the gut like a heavy ball. “Sorry, I’m sweaty. I just got back in.” 

“Back in from where?”

“Yoga,” Richie said smugly. Eddie blinked up at him.

“Yoga?” He asked, bemused.

“Yoga,” Richie grinned. He crossed his arms. “My therapist recommended it. It’s awesome, I mean- I’m always sore, but just think of how flexible I’m gonna be.”

“Spare me, Rich,” Eddie giggled. He leaned up and kissed Richie, smiling into the taller man’s mouth. “What are you up to today?”

“Songwriting, band practice,” Richie stroked back a handful of Eddie’s wavy hair. “Christ, you’re going awfully blonde.”

“It’ll darken up in the winter,” Eddie murmured, leaning into Richie’s hand. 

“No, I like it,” Richie said. His eyes twinkled. “And you’re so fucking tan. You look like you get sun every damn day. You’re a beach babe, Eds.”

“I do go to the beach every weekend. Maybe you can come with me someday soon,” Eddie stepped closer into Richie’s personal space and Richie wrapped him up into his arms. The steam of his coffee was warm on Eddie’s back. “We can pack a lunch.”

“You’re covered in freckles,” Richie said. “You think I’ll get ‘em?”

“I don’t know. I take the sun really well.”

“Yeah?” Richie smirked down at Eddie, bending his head to kiss his cheek. “What else do you take well?” He murmured, the husky tone of his voice sending a wash of heat through Eddie’s chest, spiraling straight down to his tingling fingertips. 

“Richie,” he whimpered, and was surprised by the desperate need in his voice.

“Damn fucking right,” Richie breathed, and he covered Eddie’s mouth with his own. He bit Eddie’s bottom lip and rubbed his lower back with one sure hand, tilting his head and parting his lips. 

Eddie breathed out and in, licking into Richie’s mouth and standing on his tiptoes. He brought his arms up and around Richie’s neck, his travel mug dangling from one hand, and deepened their kiss. He sucked on Richie’s lip in turn, looking up at the taller man from underneath his lashes. “Dinner on Friday, okay? I’ll write down my address…you can meet me there and we’ll walk somewhere.”

Richie hummed. “Can’t think right now,” he admitted, and stole another deep, longing kiss. “You teaching today?”

“Yes.”

“Can I mess you up a little?”

“I really shouldn’t,” Eddie whispered. He pressed a soft kiss onto Richie’s high cheekbone and Richie preened. “I don’t have a lot of time. I wanted to make our date and bring you coffee and…I missed you.”

Richie lit up, and his whole entire body seemed to thrum with a tremendous amount of energy. “I miss you too, baby. You’ll only have to wait until Friday.” Richie’s tone was still low and he tugged Eddie a little closer. “That sweet face,” he said softly. “With your lips like that all I can picture is you going down on my dick, honestly.”

“ _Richie_ ,” Eddie hissed, flushing, and wondered if there was any way for him to surreptitiously adjust his growing boner without drawing attention to it. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t think about it,” Richie grinned wolfishly. “Maybe you think about me going down on you?” He leaned in and licked over the shell of Eddie’s ear and Eddie shuddered, stifling a moan when Richie ran his hand down and palmed his ass with a firm squeeze. “You don’t have time for me? No time to let me bend you over the counter and eat my breakfast? I miss your taste and I miss how you scream for me--“

“I have to teach a whole lecture hall of eighteen year olds in just over an hour,” Eddie insisted and, wow, if that wasn’t the least sexy thing he could think of. “And I feel like if I go in after a really good blowjob they’ll just _know_.” 

“What about a really bad blow job?” Eddie laughed and pressed his face into Richie’s shoulder. 

“I’ll have to pass, Rich. Give me a raincheck.”

“You got it,” Richie let go of Eddie’s ass and stroked his shoulders. “What day did you want me to eat you for dinner?”

Eddie laughed and punched Richie in the shoulder. “I want to take you to dinner on Friday.”

“Mmm,” Richie pursed his lips. “Let me check.” He turned into their kitchen and Eddie blinked and took a second to look around. Things were just similar enough to be eerie; most of the furniture was different and there were band posters, clipped ticket stubs where they’d previously had bare walls and photos. Richie’s bachelor’s degree was on the floor, propped beside the TV. Eddie could glimpse just barely into Richie’s room; the bed that they had shared was gone. There was a full mattress in the corner, covered in blankets and sheets and clothes. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, and Eddie didn’t see a single bottle or baggie, but the room was a Richie-style mess that Eddie could identify in a crime line up. 

“Can’t on Friday,” Richie’s voice permeated his thoughts. Eddie turned; Richie was watching him from the doorway to the kitchen, drinking from the coffee that Eddie had brought him. “I have a meeting in the afternoon and then practice.”

“A meeting?” Eddie tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been caught majorly snooping. “With your label? I don’t know how any of that works.”

Richie searched Eddie out with dark, kind eyes. “I have therapy that morning,” he said softly. “And then narcotics anonymous. And then practice. I just don’t think I’ll be in a sexy mood, I never am after NA.” 

“Oh,” Eddie whispered. “You go to NA?”

“Three times a week, roughly,” Richie said. “More if I need it. Less, sometimes, if things are going really well.” He opened his arms and Eddie was in them in a flash, and they held each other.

“I should know this,” Eddie mumbled. He felt like kicking himself. “These are things that I should know.”

“You know now, sweetheart.”

“I’ll never be able to make it up to you, all this time, dealing with everything alone--“

“Shhh,” Richie pressed his lips into Eddie’s hair. “I was never alone. I had Lettie and Jesse. I have a good therapist and NA helps a lot. Some days are tough, yeah, but…we’ve been joined at the hip since we moved to Seattle. I think I needed to do this by myself.”

Eddie nodded. “You’re so brave,” he said. “And so strong.”

“My self preservation just finally kicked in, I think.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short,” Eddie looked up and they caught eyes. It was like nothing else existed. “I should have been here for you before and I wasn’t, I can’t change that, but I’m here now, Richie. Nothing will _ever_ take me away from you again.” 

Richie squeezed Eddie’s shoulder and took another sip of his coffee. “You didn’t have it easy,” he said eventually. “And I certainly wasn’t blameless. I used dirty needles and I overdosed and I was mean to you. You were scared to fuck me or fall asleep in our home…afraid I’d give you something or a dealer would come in and beat me senseless--” Eddie shook his head wildly and shivered, and Richie hugged him tightly. “I don’t take this for granted, Eddie. I’m _lucky_ to be alive and I’m so grateful that you’re here and that I’m here and that you brought me a fucking coffee. It’s a second chance I never thought I’d get.”

Eddie stared up at Richie, awestruck and terribly infatuated with all of the little details that he was still remembering about him. “You used to rub my feet when I had a long day in class,” he whispered, and Richie nodded.

“After the first time I ODed you watched Christmas movies with me,” Richie said quietly. “Even though it was May. You knew it would make me feel better.” 

“We’re going to fix us,” Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and Richie leaned down into him. “I’ll do anything to fix us, Richie.”

“Me too,” Richie’s voice was hoarse in Eddie’s ear. He lifted the smaller man effortlessly and Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie’s hips like it was second nature. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

Eddie nodded and buried his face against Richie’s hair. He breathed in the strong, minty tang of the other man’s shampoo, the old smell of cigarettes and the spice of his aftershave, and he believed him.

“Wanna watch TV until you have to go?” Richie swayed with Eddie in his arms. Eddie shook his head. “Wanna cuddle on my shitty floor mattress?” Eddie just held Richie tighter and Richie chuckled. “I can keep holding you? This is also a good plan.” 

“How am I supposed to talk to seventy people about social psychology when I’m just thinking about you?” Eddie half joked. He brought his thermos around and took a sip of orange juice. 

“I know,” Richie said solemnly. “I want to watch Christmas movies too, babe.” He laughed at Eddie’s flushed glare. “Seriously. We’re practicing tonight. Come by.”

“Actually, I have dinner plans with my roommate.” At Richie’s raised eyebrows, Eddie elaborated. “ _Her_ name is Annie.”

“Ah! Cool. Bring her!”

“It wouldn’t be weird?”

“No, Lettie brings her girl by all of the time, I can bring a few people. You can listen to me fumble through verbal warm ups, and other shit that our agent makes me do.”

“Any new songs?”

“They’re all new songs,” Richie pressed Eddie into the doorframe, balancing his support and giving his arms a break. He smiled at Eddie, curiously, and tilted his head a little. “Did you have your ear pierced at the wedding?”

“Yes,” Eddie said. A distorted loss of time washed through him and made him feel clammy and sick in a strange, vague way. “Yes. I got it months ago.”

“Huh,” Richie clicked his tongue and nuzzled his face into Eddie’s neck, breathing him in. “Must not have noticed. I like it, it’s super cute.”

“Thank you. I…I should go. Rush hour,” Eddie captured Richie’s lips in his own and Richie pressed him tighter into the wall, and they kissed for a few blissful moments like they’d never have to stop. 

“I love you,” Richie mumbled and Eddie arched his back with a whine. He threw his thermos aside and heard it clatter to the ground while he grabbed Richie’s thick, wavy hair and hauled him in for a deeper kiss. 

“God,” Eddie whispered, his eyes screwed shut. “Say it again, ‘Chee.”

“I love you,” Richie said into Eddie’s mouth. “I never stopped.”

“Thank goodness,” Eddie laughed and the sound was wet. “Uhm,” he rubbed his eyes, sniffling. “See you at practice? Tonight, at the warehouse where you guys always used to jam?”

“Yeah,” Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s. “You really can’t call in?”

“I really can’t call in,” Eddie wiggled down to stand on his own, arching up onto the balls of his feet to kiss Richie sweetly. “What time?”

“Anytime,” Richie looked happy and dazed, like he couldn’t quite believe the direction that his morning had taken. Eddie agreed. 

“Okay,” Eddie grinned and walked backwards, his face feeling hot. “Bye,” he waved, like an idiot, and Richie waved back with a huge smile spread over his full lips. 

“Bye, baby,” Richie leaned in the doorway to the kitchen and Eddie slipped on his loafers and left. 

He sighed, leaning back against the door and brushing his hair back. He stood there for a long moment, smiling at nothing, and then grimaced, “Oh, fuck,” he turned around to knock on the door but Richie was already opening it, Eddie’s thermos in one hand. 

“Forget something?” Richie smirked, and Eddie lunged up into the taller man’s arms, kissing him one more time. 

“Yes,” Eddie breathed, smiling and squirming with his excitement. “I love you too, Richie. I love you so, so much.”

“Babe!” Richie hugged Eddie tightly. “Woah, uhm, first of all,” he grinned. “ _Yay_. But mostly, you forgot your travel mug!” 

“Fuck the travel mug, I already finished my OJ.” He kissed Richie firmly. “Love you.” Eddie jumped backwards and ran down the street, waving after a taxi.

“So…you don’t want your mug back?” Richie hollered from behind him, and Eddie had to laugh. 

 

* * *

“I’ve never seen somebody look like they’re trying to get fucked in overalls,” Annie whispered to Eddie while they walked into the warehouse, her eyes sparkling with good humor. “This is honestly the cutest you’ve ever been.”

“Shhhh,” Eddie hissed, but Annie’s compliment made him feel giddy. He tried to look like he hadn’t slaved over his appearance, and in truth, he hadn’t; it was only overalls and a blue t-shirt, his white sneakers and his golden brown curls all brushed out. He was scrubbed totally clean and he felt warm, inside and outside. “Do you think we’re too late? We’re too late, this is stupid--“

“Shhh, yourself,” Annie linked her arm with Eddie. With Annie in flats and Eddie in his sneakers, they were exactly the same height. “You’re striking. And I’m excited! I can’t wait to meet the infamous Richie Tozier. My heart is just all a flutter.”

Eddie giggled and tugged Annie closer. They turned a corner and walked smack into somebody- a pretty huge, solid, muscular wall of somebody.

“Eddie!” Jesse said, gaping. Being walked into by two people hadn’t budged him an inch. He was exactly as Eddie remembered him; monolithic in his height, long blonde hair and beard, jacked to all hell and, outwardly, terrifying. But Eddie also remembered that Jesse was infallibly kind. He saw rom-coms with all of the girlfriends that he’d ever had (and Eddie sometimes, honestly), he was a prolific reader and writer, and he had three cats. “Hi, wow.” Jesse smiled, though it read more like a twitch of his moustache and beard to the untrained eye. “Richie said you’d be coming. It’s nice to see you.”

“Likewise,” Eddie said, and it was. “I’m sorry we’re so late, I got caught up at school.” He held out his hand. Jesse looked at him for a long second. He knocked Eddie’s hand aside, lifted him up and squeezed him tightly. “Ahh,” Eddie laughed, hugging Jesse back around his thickly corded neck. “Thank you,” he said. Jesse nodded and set him back down, his green eyes fond. 

“Hi,” Annie said. Eddie turned to look at her and was surprised to see her tan cheeks flushed and a beaming smile on her face. “Um,” she bowed her head and raised it, practically craning her neck backwards to look up into Jesse’s face. “I’m Annie.”

“Hi,” Jesse echoed. His marble-pale skin gave his blush away much easier than Annie’s and Eddie watched with a strange sort of excited bemusement while they shook hands and grinned at each other like dopes. “Jesse Matusiak. It’s…really nice to meet you, wow,” they both laughed, and Eddie grinned, crossing his arms. “You know Richie, too?”

“I’m meeting him for the first time today just like I’m meeting you,” Annie said. She and Jesse were still shaking hands. “I’m Eddie’s roommate. You could say this whole thing is thanks to me.”

“You could say that if you wanted to grossly underestimate--“

“I picked out your suit,” Annie interrupted, sliding her hand out of Jesse’s. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh yeah,” Jesse grinned. “Richie told me all about the tragic fate of your suits. Sorry to hear about it.”

“I’ll invite you to the funeral,” Annie said, and she and Jesse laughed. Eddie made an exaggerated gagging sound and Annie laughed harder. “Sorry, Eddie. I know hetero flirting gives you indigestion.” 

“Your gross puppy love does make me nauseous, yes,” Eddie said, and Annie laughed again. Jesse looked enamored of the sound, and Eddie smiled at him. “Are you guys still practicing? I’m sorry again, I got held up after class in my office hours.”

“You’re fine,” Jesse said. “We finished up, but we’re going to go to dinner. If you guys want to come?”

“We--“

“Dinner sounds amazing,” Annie beamed. Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes and caught the most amazing sight; Richie and Lettie, laughing at the mouth of the hallway. Richie, wearing ripped up jeans and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt over a Nirvana t-shirt and Lettie, her blue hair cut in a stylish bob, half of her head shaved. 

Richie caught Eddie’s eyes and brightened like somebody turned on a light inside of him. “Hang on,” Eddie heard him say to Lettie, but he didn’t really absorb it. His heart was racing in his chest, and he didn’t even realize that he was running towards Richie until they met in the middle and they were in each other’s arms. 

Richie lifted Eddie and spun him, and Eddie laughed, ran his hands back through Richie’s hair and pulled him in for a tender kiss. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist and Richie kissed him back through his smile, his arms tight around Eddie and his fingers dancing over Eddie’s back. 

“Beautiful guy,” Richie murmured into his mouth. “Who are you looking for here? I hope it’s me.”

“Play your cards right,” Eddie grinning, nipping Richie’s lip. He leaned in to rub their noses together. “I thought about you all day after this morning. Nonstop.”

“You sappy little bitch,” Richie giggled, but he twirled Eddie around again. “So fucking cute, Jesus, I love your hair.”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed and kissed Richie again. Richie’s mouth opened underneath his and Eddie shivered as he felt a delicate arc of heat stir at the base of his spine. 

“Yeah?” Richie raised one eyebrow and Eddie nodded, sucking on his bottom lip. “So needy, even when everybody’s watching you?”

“I told you,” Eddie whispered back. “I’ve been thinking about you _all_ day.” 

Richie beamed. “You’re so fucking cute.” He set Eddie down and pulled him right back into another hug. “How was class? Office hours?”

Eddie hummed, setting his chin on Richie’s chest to gaze up at him. “Good. Pretty prototypical. I can’t wait to get out of teaching summer sessions.”

“Well, once you get your doctorate you can go for a full professorship, right?”

Eddie nodded. “Yep. But I don’t want to complain, I love teaching.” He felt a strange flush of pride and he smiled. “My students really like me. I want to get away from the whole lecture hall thing and work with smaller groups, you know, really core stuff, lots of discussion.”

“You like your students too, yeah?” Richie was smiling at him, enraptured by Eddie’s words, and Eddie loved it. 

“Yes, of course. I have some assholes, don’t get me wrong, but they’re eighteen. They’re not bad kids. They’re angry sacks of hormones.” Richie laughed and Eddie glowed with it. “How’s practice?”

“Awesome! Sorry you missed the playing part,” Richie leaned in and nuzzled his face against Eddie’s neck. “Dinner?”

“Dinner,” Eddie tilted his head up and caught Richie’s lips. He languished in it, caught up in feeling like the last six months, the last two years, had never happened, like they’d done something amazing and they were redelivered to each other, whole and in love, as a sign of gratitude. He was awash with it.

“Hi, so,” Eddie blushed and turned around. Lettie and Jessie were gone and Annie was standing at his shoulder, a smug smile on her face. “ _Hi_ ,” she repeated, and Richie’s face split into a Cheshire grin and oh. Oh _no_. 

“Well _hello_ , gorgeous,” Richie purred. He took Annie’s proffered hand and kissed it. “Charmed, I’m positively charmed.”

“Hi Charmed, I’m Annie,” Annie said, and Richie cackled. 

“Oh, I think we’re going to get along tremendously,” Richie said, and Eddie groaned, long and suffering, and pressed his face into Richie’s shoulder. “Any fun stories I should know about Eds? Any tidbits that I’ve missed over the last six months or so?”

“Don’t you dare,” Eddie hissed, his voice muffled but threatening. “Don’t you _dare_.” 

“What can I say?” Annie grinned helplessly. “Eddie, you didn’t tell me that Richie was so convincing and so _handsome_.”

“Yes I did. I absolutely di--“

“You told her I was handsome?” Richie gushed. “Oh baby! I--“

“Eddie has a crush on Chandler from Friends!”

“ANNIE!”

Richie howled with laugher, his head thrown back. “Eddie!” He shook the smaller man’s shoulders, a wild grin lighting up his face. “Eddie, could you _be_ anymore obvious?”

“SHUT _UP_ , RICHIE!”

* * *

“No, absolutely,” Richie was talking animatedly, his face delighted, Eddie curled up in his lap. It was after dinner and they’d all come back over to Eddie and Annie’s apartment. Richie, Eddie, and Lettie were on the couch, and Jesse and Annie were trying to look like they weren’t trying to sit too close to each other on the floor. “There was a quarry in our town and we used to cliff dive ALL of the time. And Eddie’s such a little spitfuck, he’d get all red-faced and argue over which one of us had to go first. So cute!”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie mumbled, his eyes closed, snuggling deeper into his beau’s chest. Richie stroked his hair. “You’re on thin ice.”

“Yeah,” Richie smiled, humming out a happy sound when Eddie opened his eyes and kissed his collarbone. “Well. Sucks to suck, Kaspbrak.” 

“I didn’t think Eddie had it in him, to be honest,” Annie giggled. 

“You have to hear about this one show,” Jesse said, and Lettie made an agreeable sound. She stopped short of a smile and looked at Eddie and Richie out of the corner of her eyes. Eddie frowned. “It was actually the night we met them. Okay- we used to have this singer, before Richie--“

“--we called him dickbag Dave--“

“Dickbag Dave, right so…”

Eddie tuned out and looked up at Richie. Richie was already looking back at him. He glanced at Lettie and back up at Richie, and the taller man nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Eddie sat up and Lettie looked at him dispassionately. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Jesse and Annie were talking animatedly to each other, and Richie’s hand sat on his hip like a spotlight of courage. “to, um, interrupt. Can I talk to you? Outside, maybe?”

Lettie nodded and finished off her drink. She stood up and rubbed a hand back through her hair, and walked outside before Eddie could say another word to her. 

Eddie walked out after her and found her on his porch. Lettie was smoking, thoughtful, and she didn’t look at Eddie when he shut the front door quietly behind him. “I--“

“I don’t like you,” Lettie cut in softly. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Lettie--“

“No,” she said. “You’re going to be quiet, and you’re going to listen. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

“The day after you left Richie, he called me. He was high, out of his mind, babbling and sobbing,” Lettie took another long drag of her cigarette. “All I could make out was ‘Eddie left me’,” she fixed Eddie with a cold, hard stare. “He said, ‘Eddie left me, I don’t know what to do, Letts, I wish I was _dead_ ’.” 

Eddie looked down at his bare feet and felt cold, in spite of the warm June night. 

“So,” Lettie continued. “I went over to your place- well, his place, now. Cleaned him up. He didn’t shoot up or snort anything, all day. He was frantic and he didn’t know how to reach you. The withdrawals were terrible--“

“I know what the withdrawals were like--“

“--shut up and listen to me,” Lettie snapped. Eddie closed his mouth. “He was a mess, strung out and suicidal. And he went to rehab and he got _better_. Like I haven’t seen him in years. And then,” she stuck a finger in Eddie’s face, the cigarette in her mouth an angry searchlight in the dark. “he found out all about you going on those dates, fucking those other randos, and he came clean to me about all of the times you fucking _cheated_ on him. And now? You’re back here as soon as he signs a three-album deal? Giggling and attached to his lap like you never fucking did all that shit?” She puffed on her cigarette and flicked the butt off into the night. 

“It has nothing to do with that--“

“--I love Richie,” Lettie said, her eyes dark and angry. “He’s my brother. I was there for him through everything and I _always_ will be. Long after you move off of his dick and onto the next chump’s, you gold-digging little bitch.” Eddie felt his jaw drop and tears rose in his eyes, unbidden. Lettie pursed her lips and nodded once. “Yeah. Think about that when your hands are down his pants tonight.” She hopped down Eddie’s front steps two at a time and shoved her hands into his pockets. 

“W-wait,” Eddie choked out, but Lettie ignored him. “Wait!” He jumped down his steps and ran after her, barefoot, grabbing her elbow. She stopped. “I understand, I understand. I didn’t do right by him, but he didn’t do right by me either.” Lettie didn’t turn to look at him, but Eddie kept talking. “You don’t know my side, and--“ he back up when Lettie turned on him, holding his hands up. “I’m not defending myself. But you have to understand, we were both in a bad place. We’re trying to work it out, I…I love him. I’m in love with him,” Eddie set his jaw and glared at Lettie through his tears. “He loves me too. So I don’t care if you don’t like me now. I don’t deserve it, and I know it.” He took one step closer and they glowered at each other, and Eddie saw that Lettie’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, too. “But I will spend the rest of my _life_ proving myself to him, and to you, and to everybody, over and over again, for as long as he lets me.” 

Lettie looked him up and down. “We’ll see,” she said. She lit another cigarette and stormed off, and this time, Eddie made no move to stop her. 

* * *

Annie and Jesse were sitting on the porch, hours later, talking and having a beer and a wine, while Eddie brushed his teeth. He finished up, spitting and wiping his mouth, and walked into his bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. 

Richie was waiting for him in his bed, in boxers and his t-shirt, his pants and Hawaiian button down thrown casually in the corner. Eddie took down his overalls and his socks and climbed into bed, falling into Richie’s arms like he was meant to be there. They kissed, chaste and full of meaning, and Eddie took Richie’s glasses off, folded them, and set them on his nightstand. 

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” Richie said.

“Lettie hates me,” Eddie murmured. “She doesn’t trust me- she thinks I’m only after your money. Or your dick. Or your money and your dick.”

Richie chuckled. “Money? You know I don’t have any money, right? I didn’t lie to you or mislead you into thinking that I was shitting bars of gold?” He lowered himself down and pressed his face into Eddie’s chest. Eddie buried his face in Richie’s wild hair in turn. “I have my advance, yeah, but, like…I’m living off of that.”

“I don’t want your money, anyway,” Eddie grumbled. 

“I know, honey. Hey,” Richie leaned up and kissed Eddie. “I don’t think that you do.”

“You used to pay for everything,” Eddie mumbled, breaking off their kiss. Richie frowned. “My tuition, our rent, almost all of our bills. And I…I did…”

“Don’t,” Richie soothed, but Eddie shook his head. 

“No,” he insisted. “I get it. I know where she’s coming from. I have to be better to you than I was. I…I have to be a better man.”

“We both have to be better men,” Richie whispered, and there was something warm in his eyes that made Eddie feel hot. “Shh,” he whispered, and he dipped his head in until their noses were pressed together. “I can hear you worrying, so…quit it.” He kissed the smaller man, a long, soft press of their mouths, breathed, and cupped Eddie’s face when he kissed him again, parting his lips and tilting his head.

Eddie wrapped Richie’s shirt around his fingers and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth and surrendered to the taller man, and let himself be tasted and licked by Richie Tozier, whose hands felt brand-hot, suddenly, on Eddie’s cheeks. He kissed back leisurely, whimpering a little when Richie sucked on his tongue, the barbell in his own dragging against Eddie’s. Something hot pooled in his belly but he held himself at bay, content to just kiss Richie over and over, for as long as the other man would allow. 

“I love you,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s mouth. “I love your bitchy temper and I love your little white sneakers, and I love how much you love teaching and how you wanna increase gay visibility in the media. I love all of the papers you write,” he lowered his arms to hook around Eddie’s waist and pull him in. “You love me back, too, and you did before I had any money. Or an apartment, or a car, or--“

“I’ve loved you back, always,” Eddie whispered. He felt hazy. “I don’t want your money, I don’t want anything except you--“ Richie was kissing him again, more desperate in his movements. “Oh God, _Richie_ , please don’t think that about me, I can take anything else because so much of it is true, but please, please don’t ever think I’m using you--“

“I know, sweetpea, honey,” Richie kissed Eddie’s temple. “I _know_ , Eds. Lettie--“

“Has every right to hate me--“

“--is concerned,” Richie continued. “And protective. It’s not going to change my relationship with her, or with Jesse, or with you. That’s…that’s part of the reason I wanted to go slow. I want everything to move organically and…I don’t want to force anything.”

Eddie sniffled. “You’ve become awful wise in your old age.”

“You’re older than me,” Richie teased, gently. “And my therapist _did_ compliment me on my stunning self restraint.”

“What’s ‘going slow’? What are our boundaries?”

“Well…” Richie sighed, his fingers tapping on Eddie’s waist. “I…I don’t want to move in with you right now.”

Eddie blinked. “Of course not, Rich. I’m locked into a two year lease, anyway, and…” Eddie trailed off, but they both knew where his sentence would have lead; there was too much trauma there that they weren’t ready to face. 

Richie nodded. “Okay, rad. Um. I want to have sex with you, but whenever I think about it I…it makes me _nervous_ , fuck,” he groaned and covered his face with one long hand. “I sound like such a little bitch.”

“Richie--“

“I mean, what kind of red-blooded, living, breathing man, turns down a warm and willing Eddie Kaspbrak?” Richie laughed from behind his hand and it had a strange, hysterical edge. 

“No, Rich- ‘Chee, stop that,” Eddie pulled Richie’s hand down and was surprised to see the fear in his gaze. “I don’t care about that, I’ll wait forever for you.”

“You’ll get bored,” Richie said, his voice uncharacteristically small. 

“No,” Eddie insisted firmly. “Never. Never _ever_.” He cupped Richie’s face. 

Richie smiled weakly. “Well, in the meantime, while I wait for my dick to catch up with my brain, I’m happy to provide the services that you may require of a gentleman such as myself; with my fingers and my mouth and the vibrator that I just _know_ you have hidden around here somewhere--“

“Stop,” Eddie said softly. He kissed Richie’s forehead, and the taller man went quiet. “It’s me. You don’t have to pretend with me. We’ll do anything you want when you’re ready, okay? Nothing before that, ever, Richie.”

Richie nodded and hugged Eddie. Eddie slipped his arms around Richie’s neck and they held each other in silence for a moment. From outside of Eddie’s window, cracked open, a summer breeze drifted in and it carried Annie’s laugh with it, twinkling like a windchime in the dark. 

“I want to be your boyfriend again,” Richie said softly. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathed back. Elation rose in his stomach, through his chest, and settled like golden sunshine in the center of him. “Yes, please.” 

“Awesome,” Richie grinned. “Everything else, we can take it as it comes, I--“

“--love you, too,” Eddie laughed when Richie blew a raspberry into his hair. “Gross, Rich.” 

“Mmm, hey, so- I didn’t hear you saying no about that vibrator.”

“Don’t test me. There’s a perfectly good couch out there for you if you misbehave, Richie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey ya'll! Hope you enjoy this! The last chapter of part six should be up around Sunday/Monday. It's a long'un so, uh, brace thyselves. 
> 
> I AM OVERWHELMED by the amount of you that said 'Happy Hanukkah' to me. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I hope anybody who else is celebrating is having a wonderful holiday (as I write this, it's day 3/8) and I hope that those who don't are having a wonderful December, thus far. 
> 
> And ya'll have my gratitude, eternally, for your feedback. It motivates me, helps me write, and makes my world go 'round. 
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> xoxoxoxo  
> waxagent


	6. Time After Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a vignetted look at the next year of Eddie's and Richie's lives, about their getting back together; the struggles and the happy stuff. 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS NSFW CONTENT (a li'l biiiiiit) and since it's been awhile I figured I'd put out a gentle reminder that this story is rated 'E' for a reason, and is intended for audiences who are 18+ years of age :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Three and a half weeks after the wedding.** _

Eddie sat in the waiting room in his teaching best, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his tie loose. His arms were crossed, his legs were crossed, his whole fucking _life_ felt crossed. He huffed and checked his watch, huffed again, and checked the clock over the receptionist’s desk. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” Eddie stood so fast that he almost tripped over his loafers. His name came from a smiling woman, her upper half poking out from the heavy oak door to the left of the receptionist. She had a high bun of incredibly curly hair with a pencil stuck into it and a pen in her right hand. It felt redundant and Eddie hated it. “I’m ready for you, now.” Her words were cool and clipped with an accent that Eddie could not identify, but her smile was warm. 

Eddie gave her a curt nod. He ran a hand back through his recently cut hair and marched passed her and into her room. 

“You can have a seat,” she offered, and Eddie obliged her by sitting rigidly on the couch across from her desk. “I’m Doctor Navaio.”

“I know,” Eddie nodded. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, likewise,” Navaio smiled and sat on the edge of her desk. Her huge earrings caught a glimmer of sunlight and she hummed, uncapping her pen with her teeth. “So, Doctor Czenzych recommended me to you?”

“Yes, she did,” Eddie said. “She’s my advisor at the University. She said that you…you’re good, and I’m uncomfortable being here as is, to be honest, I’m only here because I know I really need it and I’ve been putting it off for too long--“

“Everybody starts talk therapy for a different reason,” Navaio said. She was tapping her pen against the edge of the clipboard in her hand, but she hadn’t written down anything yet; so, she didn’t peg Eddie as ‘immediately batshit crazy’ from first impulse, then, and there was a victory somewhere in that. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I know I don’t have to be, I just am.”

“You’re a psychology student. For now, just treat this like a lesson in the classroom,” and that did help, Eddie realized. 

“I…okay,” he took a deep breath. “I think I feel a little stupid for being so nervous, obviously. This is my _field_.”

“The art dealer who paints for the first time is nervous, as is the kindergarten teacher with her first child on the way,” Navaio smiled. “We are, all of us, only human. When you teach psychology, it is possible that you do not look within yourself to do so, and that is okay. We can talk about whatever you’d like; for the next ninety minutes my ears are yours.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Eddie admitted. “My boyfriend has been seeing a therapist for months, probably seven months now, and he _loves_ it. He says it’s been cathartic for him. He loves having somebody impartial to talk to. ”

“So he’s an expressive guy, your boyfriend? A good talker?”

“It’s a gift,” Eddie smiled; just thinking about Richie was prone to make him feel giddy. “Or so he says. He just likes to blab.” 

“And you do not?”

“I mean, I teach, so there’s something for me in the talking. I’m…” Eddie hesitated, steeled himself, and pushed onwards. “I’m not a very good communicator. That’s why I’m here.”

“To communicate?”

“Yes,” Eddie nodded firmly. “Because I…I want to be better at it.” He crossed his legs and nodded again. “It’s important, so I want to put in the work.”

* * *

Eddie walked into his apartment at a little after five pm. He shook the rain out of his hair and shut his umbrella, toeing off his loafers and nudging them into a neat position with his foot. 

“Hey, babe,” and Eddie almost jumped right out of his skin. 

“DON’T.” He hissed, two hands clutched over his chest. “Richie!!”

Richie was laughing hysterically, nearly doubled over, and not at all contrite or concerned about Eddie’s impending death by heart attack; the bastard. “I’m sorry!” He giggled. “You just- you made this _sound_ \--“

“We get it, I’m a fucking scaredy cat, blame it on the fact that you made me watch Scream last night--“ And he was wrapped up in Richie’s arms, and Richie was peppering his face with kisses and smiling, and Eddie let go of his anger almost too easily. 

“You’re so easy,” Richie grinned, and _whoop_ , there was the anger. 

“Shut the fuck up, Richard,” Eddie scowled, and Richie laughed again. 

“You’re a good, predictable boy, Eds!”

“Shut uuuuuup!” Eddie whined, pushing at Richie’s arms. 

“Mm, shut me up, then,” Richie wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on baby, give me some suga--“

Eddie cut Richie off with a rough surge of his mouth against the other man’s, grabbing his hair with both hands and yanking it. Richie groaned and adapted, hiking Eddie in closer with his hands on the other man’s hips. He melted and when Richie sunk his teeth into Eddie’s plush bottom lip he _whimpered_ and surged against the taller man. His motion knocked them both back into the couch and Richie grunted, his knees crumbling, and Eddie squawked when they tumbled to the ground in a messy heap. 

“Ah- errk,” Eddie groaned. “Rich, you okay?”

“Oh wow, I’m great,” Richie was crooked underneath Eddie on the ground, flushed and laughing again. Eddie broke down and giggled with him, pressing his face into Richie’s neck. 

“You’re scratchy is what you are,” he mumbled, pressing a bunch of little kisses into Richie’s throat, watching with satisfaction as Richie’s adam’s apple bobbed. “Shave your neck.”

“You told me you thought it would be, and I quote, “fucking sexy” if I had a beard.”

“That’s what I thought but honestly, your face just looks dirty.”

“Edward!” Richie gasped, scandalized, and it was Eddie’s turn to laugh. 

“Richie,” he teased, sighing when Richie kissed his nose. “You can still shave your neck even if you don’t shave your face. You’re not supposed to be growing anything there.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing with facial hair,” Richie admitted quietly. “I’m just trying to look at what Jesse does and imitate that. Mm,” he kissed Eddie and ran a hand through the soft strands of his sunkissed hair. “You’d look good with a beard, too.”

“That’s a hard pass on my end.”

“Ooooh,” Richie smirked. “I love hearing about hard things on your end.” 

“Shut up,” but Eddie was smiling and they were pressed together again, kissing slowly, their tongues just barely brushing. 

“How was your session?” Richie said softly, his lips still brushed over Eddie’s. 

“It was good,” Eddie said, nuzzling their noses. “I’m glad I went, I’ll go again next week. I was…you know I was nervous. I’m still nervous, but…it’s good for me.” 

“I’m proud of you, Eds,” Richie smiled and Eddie felt bashful. He tucked his head underneath Richie’s chin. 

“Yeah, well. You went to NA today, right? How was that?”

“Good, today was a light one. I haven’t felt any…I dunno. Any itch lately. Things haven’t been stressful.”

“That’s when it’s the most important to go, I think,” Eddie murmured, and Richie nodded. 

“Yeah,” he kissed Eddie’s forehead. “So, here,” he sat up and rested his back against the couch, pulling Eddie onto his lap. “To celebrate both of us being official big boys and learning to talk about our feelings, I made us dinner--“

“What?” Eddie asked, alarmed.

Richie grimaced. “Annie helped me prep, a lot. She says I’m good at listening to directions.”

“She doesn’t know you that well yet, give her time.”

Richie laughed. “Okay, right, well- it’s chicken! And salad. And potatoes.”

“Sounds delicious, Richie.”

“And, just wait, because I’m the best boyfriend, the best is yet to come; I rented Titanic for you.”

“What?” Eddie sat bolt upright, his eyebrows raised. “No fucking way!” He clapped his hands once and bounced on Richie’s thighs, absurdly delighted.

“Absolute fucking way.”

“And you’ll watch it with me? The _whole_ thing?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Richie!!” Eddie beamed and slung his arms around Richie’s neck, kissing him everywhere he could reach. “Thank you, ‘Chee!”

“Bless my heart,” Richie cooed, hugging Eddie against his chest. “It’s only cause I love you so much. Oh, also, noticed you were running low on OJ. Picked you up a carton when Annie and I went grocery shopping.”

Eddie _swooned_. “You’re the perfect man,” he said, and Richie’s smile could have lit up a whole continent. 

“ _Your_ perfect man,” he agreed. He stood and lifted Eddie with him, setting him down with another peck on his lips. When he spoke next, his voice was more serious. “I made our other appointment. Six days from now.” Eddie looked up at him with a frown and furrowed brows. “I know, but we have to. I’m not…I worked through a lot, and I feel more emotionally _available_ but--“

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Richie,” Eddie said. He tugged on the other man’s shirt lightly. “I know.” He did. They’re both been stupid and careless. “We have to make sure that when we’re ready, it’s--“

“That we’re safe.” Richie nodded. 

“Yes,” Eddie shivered. He remembered the feeling of a near-stranger’s hands on his hips, unsatisfying sex, and absolute and total _panic_ when he’d asked the guy what happened to the condom he was supposed to have been wearing. He wasn’t naïve and he wasn’t an idiot; he’d once seen Richie’s dealer hand him an unwrapped, full syringe, and had watched in distracted horror while Richie had plunged it right into his arm without a second thought. They’d both made severe mistakes, and before they were together again, well; they had to be sure. “I want to do this the right way, Rich.” 

Richie smiled. “Yeah? Me too,” he pecked Eddie’s forehead. “Dinner’s gotta be done by now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie walked over to the oven, putting on a pair of potholders. “How long has it been cooking?”

“Three and a half hours.”

Eddie whirled around and stared at Richie. “Um. I’m sorry- how long?”

“Three and a half hours, yeah. Almost four by now,” Richie nodded. “At one hundred and fifty degrees. That’s…” he hesitated, frowning. “Why are you laughing Eddie? Come _on_.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie laughed. He took off the potholders and turned off the oven. “If we order pizza, can we still watch Titanic and eat the salad- oh, Richie, don’t make that face!”

“I tried,” Richie whined. He extended his arms and Eddie hugged him, still chuckling. “I _really_ tried, but I forgot to ask Annie about cooking times so I figured ‘low and slow’, because…that’s a thing people say, right?”

“I’m sure somebody said it somewhere, sometime.”

“Fuuuuuuck.”

“No weird toppings, though,” Eddie reasoned. “And we can spoon? On the couch?” He smiled up at Richie, who pouted back at him. “It’s still a perfect night, baby,” he kissed over Richie’s collarbone, visible through his thin t-shirt. 

“Because I’m with you,” Richie let loose a grin, his hands wandering down Eddie’s waist to his hips. “That’s the recipe for any good night,” he dipped his head to kiss Eddie’s jawline. “I love you, Eddie.” 

“Me too,” Eddie breathed, his eyes fluttering closed while Richie held him a little tighter and Richie kissed down his neck. “I love you too.”

“More than Titanic?”

“Let’s not get carried away, now.”

“Wahhhh,” Richie shouted, throwing up his arms. Eddie giggled. He watched the upturned curve of Richie’s smile, and he knew that they were making the right steps in the right direction.

 

_**One month after the wedding.** _

They sat in a small, sterile waiting room with their hands linked over the armrest between them. Eddie’s legs were crossed so tightly that he looked like he was about to dissolve into a single point. Richie’s knee was shaking at the speed of light. 

“I need a cigarette,” Richie said. He went to stand but Eddie shook his head and clutched his hand. 

“Please stay,” he whispered. Richie groaned and sat back down. 

“Okay. My head’s about to explode, though, just so you know. I’ve been wearing the same nicotine patch for way too long and I’m about to flip that fucking table and launch myself through the ceiling.” Eddie huffed out half of a laugh and Richie looked at him, a small smile on his lips. “And then I’m gonna burst back in though that wall like the kool aid man.”

“Stop, stop trying to make me laugh,” Eddie chastised, but he was smiling. He loosened his grip on Richie’s hand and leaned in, kissing his knuckles. 

Richie watched him, and when Eddie looked back at him, the taller man’s eyes were soft. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “No matter what, we’ll--“

“Mister Tozier!” A nurse called out from the other end of the waiting room, reading off of a clipboard. “Aaaand,” she flipped to the next page. “Mister Kaspbrak?”

They stood up and rushed to her, still holding hands. “Hi,” Eddie breathed. “Hi, that’s us.” 

“Okay, here. And, here,” she handed them each an envelope with a clinical smile. “So from what I understand, this is your first time getting any kind of tested like this, so if you have any questions--“

“Thanks,” Richie said in a rush. “We’ll let you know.” He dragged Eddie outside. The second that they were inside of Richie’s shitty Ford Focus they looked at each other, suddenly terrified. “Switch?” Richie suggested. Eddie nodded and they swapped envelopes. The burden felt instantly lighter. “I’ll read yours and you read mine.”

“Deal,” Eddie breathed. They shared one last look and ripped into their envelopes. Eddie looked over the medical spreadsheets with Richie’s name printed at the top, and while he read he felt relief course through him like a tidal wave.

“Well?”

“Clean, oh fuck,” Eddie buried his face against the paper, shaking. “You’re clean, Richie, all clean.”

“Jesus _Christ_. Negative for everything?”

“Everything, ‘Chee, you--“

“You’re clean too,” Richie croaked, and Eddie couldn’t contain himself anymore. He flung his body across the center console and the stick shift and into Richie’s arms. Richie pulled him the rest of the way over and Eddie straddled his lap, his back pressed against the steering wheel. “Well, this is a new position,” joked Richie, but it came out weak and tired. 

“Shut up, god,” Eddie buried his face into Richie’s neck and sighed when he felt fingers running through his hair. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” Richie whispered. “Me too, baby.” They held each other for a long time, saying very little and thinking of their dumb luck.

 

_**Just under two months after the wedding.** _

Eddie woke up choking on a shrill scream, clutching at his chest and his face and his hair because oh god, oh _god_ \--

_Whatever that thing was, whatever, he remembered, it was gonna kill him, it had eyes like torches and it lived underground, all of the lights were deadlights, that was it; he was going to float_ \--

“Eddie! _Eddie_!” 

He was sobbing hysterically, pushing back against the arms that grabbed and held him, “P-please, _please_ , no!!”

“Eddie, it’s me. It’s Rich, baby, please.” Eddie wailed out a terrible sob and buried his face in Richie’s chest, heaving. “Shhh, baby, shh. I’ve got you.”

“R-Richie?”

“Yes, Richie. What’s your name?”

“E-E-Eddie--“

“Where are you?”

“Muh-my r-r-room. My a-apartment.”

“Good. You’re not where you dreamed, okay?” Eddie hiccupped and nodded. “You’re with me, you’re--“

“Safe,” Eddie clutched at Richie’s bare back and held him tightly. His t-shirt was sweat drenched and twisted around his belly, tight around his chest, and he remembered the asthma, the inhaler, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe--

_“Psychosomatic,” Doctor Navaio’s voice chimed in his mind, a snippet from their last session four days ago. “The asthma in your childhood, it was potentially psychosomatic. Your mother told you this and you believed her without question, because mother is god in the eyes of a child.”_

\--but he could breathe. In slow steps, he drank down the air like it was a rare-afforded luxury, and soon he was calmer, more rational, and he felt like a colossal idiot. 

“It’s fine,” he heard Richie say softly. He looked up, wiping his face. Annie stood in his doorway in her underwear and a tank top, looking terrified, one foot already in Eddie’s room. 

“I know he gets nightmares,” Annie said, her voice more cautious than Eddie had ever heard it. “And sometimes…he needs me. I forgot you’d be here, Richie. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said thickly. He sniffled and pulled off his t-shirt, grimacing as he threw it onto the ground, and wrapped his arms around himself. “’S okay, Ann. Thanks…I-I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Richie asked. His eyes were wide in the dark and the sight of him, solid and real in Eddie’s bed, did more to calm him than any words ever could. 

“Yeah,” He pressed his cheek against Richie’s shoulder. “Sorry I w-woke you both.”

“It’s fine,” Annie said. She grabbed Eddie’s door. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Always,” Eddie mumbled, and Annie left, closing the door behind her. Richie held him in silence, one huge hand working back through Eddie’s hair, and his eyelashes fluttered at the touch, his lips parting. They kissed softly, and Eddie’s mind swam with it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Richie cracked a smile and shook his head. 

“No need,” he said. “Want to get up? There’s that all night diner down the street, we could take a walk.” 

“No, please,” Eddie shook his head. “Just hold me?” 

“’Course,” Richie spooned himself back behind Eddie, kissing his neck and his shoulder. 

“Can I ask you another favor, baby?” 

“Oh, I melt,” Richie rubbed Eddie’s stomach. “Just name it.”

“Will…will you sing something for me?” Richie’s hand stilled and Eddie winced, feeling a little stupid and a lot embarrassed. “Fuck, never mind. I’m sorry. When we were broken up and I had a nightmare I would listen to your CD and it….fuck, I’m--“

“You did that? You…my EP?”

“Yeah, but it’s stupid.” Eddie blushed, and sniffled. “That dumb ballad, track two, whatever, I--“

“You want the ballad or just anything?”

“Anything, I guess, but it’s stupid anyway--“

“ _You are my sunshine, my little sunshine,_ ” Richie whisper-sang, and Eddie let out a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his face. “ _You make me happy, when skies are grey_.” It wasn’t his honey-sweet recording voice; it was borderline his speaking tone, raspy with sleep and cigarettes, and it was perfect. Eddie was asleep before the song ended.

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to Richie sliding back into his bed in his boxers, and the gentle clink of a glass on wood. 

“Brought you OJ,” he whispered. When he adjusted his glasses, Eddie noticed how tired his eyes were. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and Richie smiled and shook his head. “No, I kept you up--“

“Shut up, baby,” Richie said kindly. He rolled Eddie over and hummed when Eddie ran his hands up Richie’s chest. “I don’t care about that. It’s Sunday, I can nap.” He pulled Eddie closer by his hips and the energy between them was charged suddenly, different. “Want to stay in bed all day?”

“I was going to go to the farmer’s market,” his breath hitched when Richie’s mouth found his neck, his fingers gliding down Eddie’s chest. “Y-you can come.”

“I sure fucking hope I can,” Richie laughed, and Eddie did too. “Can I touch you, baby?” Richie’s thumbs hooked into Eddie’s briefs. 

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, nodding. “Are you sure, ‘Chee?”

“I’m so sure,” he pulled Eddie’s underwear down and kicked off his own, and they melted into each other easily, feeling the longing between them ease and vanish, replaced with almost ten months’ worth of desperate touching and eagerness and love. 

 

_**Three months after the wedding.** _

“Alright, everybody, alright, shut up!” Lettie screamed. About twenty people were crammed into her apartment and at her shout, every single one of them went silent. Richie had a literal death grip on Eddie’s hips, his eyes wide and his face pale and nervous. Everybody waited and groaned when “It’s Been Awhile” by Staind started blasting through the radio. 

“False alarm,” Jesse groaned, and the whole room seemed to deflate with him. Annie looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back at her. 

“This feels like a New Year’s party,” Eddie mused. Richie only nodded and rubbed his hand over his neat beard. “Richie, honey. What’s the matter?”

“What if they don’t play it at all?” 

“They will. They gave you a half hour window, right? This is only the second song,” Eddie ran soothing fingers back through Richie’s hair, a little firmer than was strictly necessary, and Richie shuddered in his hands, a lazy smile uncurling over his lips. 

“I’m nervous,” he admitted. 

“I know, it’s okay.” Eddie smiled. “Remember when you used to sing in my bedroom for me? You were perfect then, and you’re perfect now.”

“My lovebug,” Richie swooned, fluttering a hand over his heart. “Ah-“ Richie smiled and waved his hand when a stranger friend of Jesse’s held up a beer for him. “No thanks. You want one, Eds?” 

Eddie shook his head. “Not tonight. Thanks.” He leaned up and kissed Richie tenderly as silence washed over the room while they waited for the next song. 

_“Thanks for joining us here at 90.3 KEXP Seattle, and boy, do we have a treat for you next. Before we start another fifteen minutes of uninterrupted tunes, we have the first new single from Seattle’s own alternative rock-child, Only Revolutions. Keep your eyes on these guys. It’s called ‘Rainwork’ and here it is, coming at you from 90.3 KEXP, Seattle.”_

And then they heard it; the driving beat of Lettie’s drums and the raucous, screaming wail of Richie’s guitar and Jesse’s bass, and Richie’s voice, Richie singing, on the _radio_ \--

“HOLY SHIT!” Richie shrieked, and the room broke out into a series of deafening cheers and applause. Eddie heard somebody pop open a bottle of champagne and he was laughing, giggling wildly as Richie picked him up and spun him around, jumping up and down. 

Jesse was on his knees and his shoulders were shaking, his brawny arms wrapped tightly around Annie who was laughing and whispering something in his ear that Eddie couldn’t catch. Lettie had collapsed in a chair, a bemused, dreamy smile on her face, her girlfriend Charlie clapping and squealing behind her. 

“We DID it!” Richie roared, and Eddie had never heard him like this before; the triumph, and the pride, and the very _success_ of him bowled Eddie over. Richie set Eddie down and tackled Jesse, ignoring a surprised squeal from Annie, and rolled with him on the ground, shouting and screaming wordlessly while Jesse laughed, minutes old tears caught in the hair of his moustache and beard. 

Lettie found her way to them, then, and Richie and Jesse hauled her down with them. Eddie heard a click and saw a flash as somebody took a picture of the three of them on the floor in a happy mess. 

Annie, half breathless with laughter, surged into Eddie’s arms, and Eddie held her tightly. She wiped his cheek for him discreetly; Eddie hadn’t even realized he was crying. 

“It’s okay,” Annie said, as if she’d read his mind. “Everybody is.” 

Richie was hugging Eddie suddenly, his face buried into Eddie’s stomach, and Eddie collapsed against him. They fell to the floor and he was in Jesse’s arms, shrieking with laughter while Jesse held him down and Richie tickled him mercilessly, and there were tears running into _his_ beard, too. Lettie flopped against Richie from behind, her arms full of Charlotte, and Eddie was sandwiched in between Richie and the solid wall of man that was Jesse. 

He heard the click of somebody taking a picture and thought, _Good_. This was a moment to remember. 

 

_**Four months and one week after the wedding.** _

It was Eddie’s twenty-seventh birthday and Richie was looking unfairly marvelous. “You’re staring,” he smirked, devilish and perfect looking. Eddie glowered over his water, the effect of which was only slightly ruined by the unconquerable smile that slipped over his lips. “Can I help you, or…are you just being rude?” 

“Mind your business,” Eddie said. He looked at his menu. Frowning, he squinted at it, trying to get it under the more direct cone of the candlelight. “What?” He deadpanned when he heard Richie snicker across the table. “What on Earth could I be doing that’s funny?”

“Mmmm. You really wanna know?”

“Yes?”

“You reeeeeaaaaally wanna?”

“YES, Rich, good god--“

“You need glasses,” Richie said. Eddie looked at him; the taller man’s eyes were twinkling and he looked _unbearably_ smug. “You can’t read that menu at _all_.” 

“What?” Eddie blushed and scoffed. He set the menu down. “Of course I can read it. Jesus, Richie.”

Richie’s grin widened. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Richie took the menu and propped it open about a foot from Eddie’s face. “Okay, my big, tough guy. Read me any item offa this bad boy.”

Eddie looked at the menu, squinted, and leaned forward. He scowled when Richie tugged the menu back in response. “Richie.”

“Eddie.” 

“The light is dim,” Eddie said, flustered. “And it’s not illegible but it’s in cursive, Richie, and I had a glass of wine, you know--“

“Don’t give yourself an aneurism, birthday boy,” Richie chuckled. His eyes were warm. “God, you’re so fucking cute. Tell me about that paper you’re writing, yeah?”

With a flush in his chest that had nothing to do with the wine, or the candlelight, or his questionable eyesight, Eddie did.

 

_**Five months after the wedding.** _

“Eddie,” Richie groaned, and somehow, there were a lot of nasally ‘b’ sounds in there. “ _Blease_ stay hobe, I’b dying.” 

“You aren’t dying,” Eddie said, but he frowned. He’d always had a nervous stomach around illness and watching Richie cough and hack and blow his nose, seeing his watery eyes and his bright red nose and his terrible lack of energy struck a deep chord in him. 

“I ab,” Richie moaned. He sniffled thickly and squinted up at Eddie. “Blease,” he said again, his voice so small and pitiful that Eddie felt his heart crack in two.

“Alright,” he said, slipping off his coat. “Let me just call the department secretary so that she can find somebody to cover my class, okay?” Richie nodded and coughed heavily, a dry hacking echoing from his chest. It made Eddie feel nervous and much younger than twenty-seven. “Hang on, Rich.” Eddie walked out of Richie’s bedroom and grabbed his cordless phone. He called the University and explained himself, thanked the secretary, and hung up. He rolled up his sleeves and set up an ancient kettle to boil, and went about rummaging through Richie’s cabinets for teabags. Quick as lightening, he dialed another number. 

“Kaspbrak residence?” 

“Sorry, Mama,” Eddie said. “I’m calling you from Richie’s. I know it isn’t my number on the caller ID.”

“Eddie Bear!” Sonia’s voice was overjoyed. “How are you, sweetheart? I heard you got a blizzard in Seattle. Are you taking your medicine and your vitamins? How’s your inhaler doing?”

“Everything is fine with me, thanks, Mom. How are you?” Eddie dug a mug out of Richie’s pantry and rinsed it out while Sonia launched into a spirited critique of her churchgoing friend, Gladys, who wouldn’t stop snooping on her neighbor, Sharon, whose son was a queer. 

“And Gladys, you know, she called him a homo, or a faggot, whichever,” Sonia sniffed.

“Yeah, Mama?”

“Yes. I told her that it was inappropriate,” Eddie blinked, his hand hovering over the only box of tea he’d been able to find. “Slurs…of that nature are disgraceful. Especially in a house of god.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He smiled and pulled out a bag of Earl Grey, dropping it into the mug. “You tell her, Mama.” Sonia tittered on the other end. “So, like I said, I’m at Rich’s and he’s really sick.” He heard Sonia suck in a sharp breath just in time to recognize his own error and he blanched. “Just with a bad flu, Mom.”

“Hm.”

“I’m fine, I’m not sick.”

“ _Hm_.”

“And he asked me to stay home with him--“

“--of course he did, that boy has no respect--“

“--Mom,” Eddie said, his voice terribly firm. “We talked about this, right. You’re not going to be mean about Richie. Okay?” Sonia was silent and Eddie continued. “I want to make him that chicken noodle soup that you always made when I was a kid. Can I have the recipe?” 

“Campbell’s soup will probably do just fine for him.”

“ _Mama_.”

“Edward.”

“The quicker that Richie feels better, the less of a chance I have of getting sick, because I’m going to be here at his apartment taking care of him until he recovers. That’s all. I’m just saying.”

Silence sat between them, long and loud, and then Sonia relented, just as Eddie knew that she would. “Alright, Edward. Get a pen and paper.”

“Thank you Mama,” Eddie preened.

Two hours and one very fruitful trip to the grocery store later, Eddie had dragged Richie to the couch. The taller man was a mess. His hair was sweat-plastered to his head and there was something unidentified caked into his moustache and beard, and it made Eddie shiver and bite back a gagging sound. 

“Sweetpea,” Richie mumbled, his eyes half lidded and drowsy behind his crooked glasses. Eddie shuffled him onto the couch and fed him a thermometer. 

“Take that out when it beeps,” Eddie instructed. He brought in two teas in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other, setting them very carefully on the table. He darted back out and brought in a glass of water and a can of ginger ale, a sleeve of saltines, and a box of cold medicine. He took the thermometer from Richie’s mouth before the other man got the chance, looked it over, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. On his third trip he brought the thermometer back in (freshly rinsed), a little jar of Tylenol, Vick’s Vaporub, and a bowl of soup for himself. 

“Babyyyyyyy--“

“Hang on, hang on,” he mumbled and darted into Richie’s bedroom, stepping over the minefield of crumpled tissues. He stripped off his slacks and his dress shirt, folded them and set them aside, grabbed one of Richie’s t-shirts from the hamper (which, Eddie had learned, more often than not held clean clothes), sniffed it, and pulled it on. He grabbed a pair of his own pajama pants and tugged them on, picked up a box of tissues and Richie’s pillow, and walked back out. 

“Is it any good?” Eddie asked. Richie blinked at him, halfway through his soup. 

“So good,” Richie nodded, slurping down a mouthful. He broke away in a hacking cough, spraying half chewed noodles and chicken a good three feet in front of him, and this time, Eddie did gag a little. He recovered quickly, steeled himself, and cleaned up the little pieces of food. 

When he returned from washing his hands, Richie was watching him balefully. “S’ry,” he said. He set his nearly empty bowl down and reached out with grabby hands. 

“It’s okay, Rich,” Eddie smiled. “I’m coming, here.” He counted out two Tylenols, a vitamin C pill, and a heaping dose of cold medicine. “Take these with water.” Richie did. Eddie sat beside him on the couch. “Take your shirt off.”

“Getting freaky?” Richie warbled, doing as Eddie told him to.

“Lord, no.” Eddie laughed, smearing a generous handful of the Vick’s onto Richie’s upper chest.

“It’s ib by chest hair.”

“Get over it,” Eddie hummed, smiling beatifically. “Now we’re cooking with gas. Alright.” He sat down on the couch, extended his feet down the length of the cushions, and put Richie’s pillow on his lap. “Lay down,” Richie gave him a wavering smile and curled up on top of Eddie. He swaddled them both in his quilt and Eddie went to work, stroking Richie’s thick mop of wavy hair and massaging his scalp. Richie moaned gratefully. 

“This comfortable?” Eddie took off Richie’s glasses with his free hand and tossed them onto the coffee table. He reached for the remote and turned on the television and started idly channel surfing.

“Bery,” Richie said, and Eddie felt him snuggling deeper. He smiled to himself. “Barry me, Eddie.” 

“Hmm?”

“Barry me.”

Eddie laughed softly. “That’s not legal, Rich.” He twirled Richie’s greasy curls around his fingers and rubbed his head and enjoyed the sound of Richie’s happy sigh.

“Shoulbbe.” 

“I agree, ohh,” Eddie made a happy little sound when they settled on The Maury Show, sinking down deeper into the cushions. “Love you, though, Richie.”

“Lubbu, baby. Ledd’s find ouddo the father is.”

“Bet it’s that guy. He just looks like a disappointed dad.”

“No way. Tolddu need glabbes. The other guy, for sure.”

 

_**Six months after the wedding.** _

“You’re going to have tough days,” Eddie said. They were laying in bed together and the apathetic look on Richie’s face was killing him, fast. “You know that.”

“I know,” Richie said. He pushed his hair back with one hand. It was getting exceptionally long and wild. Two days ago he’d made a hollow joke about shaving it all off and it had scared Eddie in a weird, latent way. 

“Can I hold you?”

“Sure.” 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders and snuggled into him. “Your manager,” he said, in the most even tone that he could manage. “Is a dumb piece of _shit_.”

“He got us radio play--“

“I want to kill him for you, Rich--“

“So he hates my teeth,” Richie chewed on his thumbnail absently. “Who cares, everybody hates my teeth. I hate my fucking teeth--“

“Richie, stop--“

“He’s right, probably, and they’re willing to pay to get them fixed--

“I don’t hate your teeth,” Eddie snapped. Richie looked up at him, hurt and wounded, and in that moment and every moment thereafter, Eddie would have killed for him. “I love your teeth.” 

“It’s dumb fucking genetics anyway.” Richie said. Eddie remembered clearly; Richie waiting for braces for his whole childhood, the only kid he knew that was _excited_ about them. Went was a dentist, but he was cruel, and Richie had never gotten his braces. His top teeth were crooked; both of his canines lapsed over his lateral incisors and even though he’d grown into them somewhat, his front two teeth were still over-large. Richie was uncomfortable about his teeth, but it had always seemed to stop at exactly that; a discomfort. This felt deeper than some asshat manager with a perfect smile telling Richie that if he didn’t get dental surgery, he’d never make it in the music biz.

Richie looked at him with sudden, strange clarity. “I didn’t do anything, Eds, but I can’t stop thinking about it, I can’t stop thinking about shooting up, I don’t know _why_ , Eddie--“

Eddie clutched Richie closer while the taller man seemed to get smaller and smaller in his arms. “Richie, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not Eddie. It’s not. Don’t fucking lie to me and tell me it’s okay--“

“Shhh,” Eddie pressed his thumb over Richie’s lips and glared at him. “We’re going to get through this. You’re going to see your therapist and go to a meeting. You’ll give me the keys to your Focus and I’ll drive--“

“--well I don’t exactly want to _die_ \--“

“--then we’ll take a taxi, whatever.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose and sat up. Richie stayed prone beneath him, breathing heavily through his nose and he looked so _fragile_. “You’ll probably want to have your doctor check your Mirtazapine, maybe look into a different course, something SSRI, because if it--“

“Don’t be a psychologist with me, Eddie, be my boyfriend--“

“I’m both,” Eddie said simply. “I’m always both, whether you like it or not.” He stood and tugged Richie to him, but the other man just wouldn’t budge. “Come on, we’re doing this now.” Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle and pressed his face into the smaller man’s neck. 

“Why am I like this?” He whispered, and Eddie felt his walls cave in. He held Richie tightly and bowed his head over the man’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said harshly. “It doesn’t matter. If it’s your brain or your parents, or your dumb fucking manager, I don’t care. Whether I’m a psychologist or your boyfriend, I still love you.”

“Don’t leave me, Eddie--”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, and he meant it. “Come on,” he sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Lots of people get sad in the winter time, and you’re pre-disposed. We need to be proactive.” 

Their day was a whirlwind, and it felt like a whole year had passed before they could bed down. Eddie waited until Richie was sound asleep and then he got up, closed the bedroom door behind him, and grabbed the cordless phone. He fingered over the phone numbers on Richie’s fridge, deciphered his boyfriend’s terrible scrawl, and dialed. 

Lettie picked up on the third ring. “What’s up, Rich?”

“It’s me,” Eddie said. His insides squirmed nervously and he tried to quell the feeling. He and Lettie weren’t on bad terms, per se; she’d said her piece to him five months ago, and she hadn’t really budged much on the issue, and they hadn’t spoken about it again. “Sorry.”

“Is Richie okay?”

“Yes, well- no,” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the fridge, trapping the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “He’s struggling. I think I’m going to kill your manager.”

“You know, the government listens in on these calls. It’s your tax dollars at work.” 

“Cool, so now that you’re an accessory to whatever is it that I’m planning, I need something from you- tell him to lay the fuck off of Richie.”

He heard Lettie’s silence, loud and clear. It was a long moment before she spoke again. “Jesse and I thought…we asked him if he was doing okay. He seemed distant. If it’s that asshole’s fault, I’ll fire him tomorrow. He’s easy to replace, and Richie is--“

“--irreplaceable,” Eddie finished for her.

Lettie laughed softly, and Eddie heard the distant sound of her lighting up a cigarette. “Something like that.” She exhaled slowly. “How is he? Do you need us? We’ll be there.”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re at his place so if you guys want to come over for breakfast or something I think that’d be cool. I’m taking care of him tonight, and he’s sleeping now, anyway. It was…it was a long day. He’s doing alright.” 

“We’ll come over- with Annie and Charlie?”

“’Course.”

“We’ll have a band pow-wow. Talk about firing some unnecessary baggage. It might be boring--“

“Nothing about Richie bores me,” Eddie said firmly. 

“I should have realized when he told Richie that he looked like a beaver,” Lettie said bitterly. Eddie felt rage then, scalding hot, stoppered in his throat like a noxious gas. _Bucky Beaver_. That was what Richie had been called, over and over again, by bullies (who were all faceless and nameless in Eddie’s memory, but one of them had a mullet and one had…blonde hair? A switchblade?) and on one memorable, awful occasion, by his father. “Richie got weird and quiet and he…he just nodded. Stood there and took it and said he’d do whatever it took. It was weird and it shook me. I’m…happy that you called, Eddie. We’ll fix this as a team; me, and Richie, and Jesse.”

“Of course,” Eddie swallowed roughly. “You want what’s best for him, and I do too--“

“I know,” Lettie said softly. “I know you do.”

“I wanna get back to him, I gotta go. Thank you.”

“No. Thanks, Shortstack,” she paused, and Eddie could her the tap of her thumbnail over the phone. “You protect him.”

“We protect each other--“

“You know what I mean,” Lettie said, soft and contemplative. “G’night, Eddie.” She hung up without waiting, and Eddie set the phone back into its cradle. 

Richie was blinking up at him when he walked back into the bedroom. “Sorry,” Eddie whispered. He climbed back into bed and Richie folded into him with a warm ease that pushed Eddie’s heart into his throat, clearing out his rage and replacing it with something that was sad and soft. 

“N’sweat.” Eddie felt Richie’s soft, sleepy breathing on the back of his neck. They held hands tightly, their fingers linked over Eddie’s chest, and they fell asleep that way. 

 

_**Six months after the wedding; Christmas.** _

Eddie was humming while he pulled cookies off of the pan with a spatula but he was wary, too, looking around as he put them on the cooling rack. “ _I really can’t stay_ ,” he mumble-sang under his breath, swaying his hips a little, and turned to transfer another round of cookies to the rack. He stopped, his eyes narrowed; Richie was standing there in a red sweater and blue jeans, looking for all of the world like an innocent angel, his brown eyes wide and a smile on his face. Eddie glared at him and his smile widened. 

“B’by,” he mumbled, strangely muffled. 

“Chew and swallow as fast as you want; the crumbs in your beard give you away, dipshit,” Eddie glowered. “Do NOT eat anymore cookies--“ and Richie swiped one right off of the spatula and shoved it into his mouth. “Christ, Richie! Isn’t that hot?!”

“Exsh-tr’mly,” Richie said around the food in his mouth, spraying crumbs over his shirt and wiping them off onto the floor. He swallowed. “Still good though, sweet pea.”

“You make it irritatingly hard to be mad at you,” Eddie grumbled. He settled the cookies down neatly and then set the spatula down on the counter, dusting off his hands. 

“You make it hard too, baby,” Richie sang, wrapping his arms around Eddie from behind. “Mmm,” he sighed, his hair tickling the side of Eddie’s face. “You smell like sugar cookies, wow. This is like every holiday fantasy I’ve ever had.” 

Eddie smiled and wrapped his arms over Richie’s. He tilted his head back. “How are you today?” He asked, his voice soft.

Richie pressed the tip of his nose against Eddie’s temple. If his arms tightened just a little bit, neither one of them would call attention to it. “Today’s an okay day,” he said simply. “The cookies help. Your singing helps. And your dancing--“

“Gives you a boner, I know,” Eddie deadpanned, and Richie laughed. 

“I think I still owe you a dance back from June,” Richie hummed, and then his hips were swaying, one of his hands sliding lower on Eddie’s waist to guide the smaller man against him. 

“Nothing sexier than being owed a dance,” Eddie quipped, and Richie laughed again. 

“Keep singing, Eddie,” he mumbled, and Eddie blushed wildly. 

“No,” he said, “this is stupid, so fucking dumb, you know that I can’t--“ 

“ _I really can’t stay_ ,” Richie sang lowly, directly into Eddie’s ear, and the smaller man sighed, relaxing. 

“ _Baby, it’s cold outside_ ,” he answered, feeling equal parts embarrassed and enticed. His voice was all right, whatever, nowhere near as nice as Richie’s. 

“ _I’ve got to go away_ ,” Richie’s smile was audible in his voice and, to Eddie’s immense surprise, he let go and moved away from him. He turned around, but Richie was smiling at him, his eyes twinkling. 

“ _Baby, it’s cold outside_ ,” he repeated, a shy smile curling over his lips. He took one step towards Richie. 

“ _The evening has been so very nice-_ -“

“ _I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice_ ,” Eddie moved back into Richie’s arms. They took hands, and he folded his other palm over Richie’s chest. Richie’s free hand found Eddie’s hip and then they were dancing, Richie’s head bent low, his lips grazing over Eddie’s forehead. They sang through a few more bars but it wasn’t anything compared to the way that Richie’s hands felt on him, the way their bodies pressed together, and, okay; maybe Eddie had been quick to judge, because he could get used to dancing. 

“Eds?” 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did…did we ever celebrate Hannukah?” 

Eddie blinked. They were dancing, still, but Richie’s brows were furrowed in intense concentration, his eyes clouded with distraction. “Maybe. I’m sorry, ‘Chee, I don’t…I don’t remember--“

“No, it’s fine,” Richie shook his head a little, smiling. He kissed Eddie’s temple, his forehead, and down the line of his nose. “Just keep dancing with me, baby.” 

Now, that was something that Eddie could do.

* * *

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie’s voice was reverent and soft. He was holding Eddie’s Christmas present in two hands. It was a watch made out of treated wood, grey and cool-toned. The face was a beautiful, marbled green. “Eds, I…” He trailed off and blinked rapidly. “This is beautiful. Thank you, I…I love it.” He was deeply touched, his fingers working wildly over the lovely gift. 

“You’re welcome,” Eddie said bashfully. He felt warm and happy and tender as he watched Richie fix the watch against his wrist. Richie smiled up at him. 

“My gift seems lame now.”

“No, don’t say that--“

“Here, just, lemme- okay. You know I got that DVD player a couple of weeks ago, yeah?”

“Yeah?” 

“Okay, so, that’s part of it. This is for us, at my apartment, literally, whenever you want,” he scooted closer to Eddie on the couch and slid a package into his lap. It was oddly discordant and big. “Open it.” 

Eddie tore the wrapping paper away from the box, neat and even. When he opened it, he saw several DVDs were crammed inside. “Gone With The Wind,” he read, smiling. “Brigadoon, fuck, Richie- ahhh,” he beamed, looking up at his boyfriend. “Titanic. Hah, Sleepless in Seattle, good one.”

“I get off a good one from time to time,” Richie agreed sagely. “And I know what my baby likes. Open the last one, that’s the best.” 

Eddie did. He gasped, covering his mouth with both hands. He stared at the titles and then stared at Richie. “Are…are you serious?” He asked. His voice was trembling but he was already bouncing in his seat, eager beyond compare. “Because this is a _commitment_.” 

“So serious,” Richie grinned, his eyes sparkling. “The first five seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer--“

Richie didn’t get to finish his sentence; his lap, his arms, and his mouth were swarmed by an incredibly excited and severely grateful Eddie Kaspbrak.

 

_**January 2nd, 2002 (Six and a half months after the wedding).** _

“Oh God,” Eddie panted, keening in between his breaths, his head thrown back. “Oh godohgodoh _god_ , ‘Chee, _Richie_ \--“

“Yeah, baby, fuck me, fuck me,” Richie moaned beneath him. His large hands held Eddie’s hips and he was bouncing Eddie up and down on his cock. They were sequestered away in Eddie’s room, both totally naked except for a startling orange sweatband that was hanging precariously low on Eddie’s forehead, matching ones on both of his wrists. “God, you feel so _fucking tight_ \--“

“Gonna come, I’m-I’m gonna--“ Eddie wailed when Richie slammed him down hard and held him in place. “Wh-what?” His eyelashes fluttered and he looked down at his boyfriend. 

Richie grinned up at him mischievously, his eyes dark and hooded. “Hold it.”

“Richie,” Eddie squirmed and gasped when he felt Richie roll his hips. He put both hands forward, his fingers splayed across Richie’s tattooed stomach, but Richie’s grip was unyielding. He whimpered, frustrated, and felt his climax ebb away from him. “Why the fuck did you- ahhn,” He threw his head back again when Richie started fucking him slowly, the cradle of his pelvis hitting Eddie’s ass with every deep stroke. 

“All good things,” Richie hummed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back and kept working into his smaller boyfriend, his hands skating back to spread Eddie a little wider over him. “Maybe I just wanna fuck you for hours, baby, I just wanna watch you take it all damn day.” 

“Nnh,” Eddie whimpered. “Richie, Richie, baby--“

“Yes, fuck,” Richie grinned, and it was _obscene_ , and Eddie felt his toes curling. “I told- _nh, Eddie_ \- told you that we’d do our New Year’s Resolutions together, right- ahh, damn, baby, squeeze down like that again.”

“I th-thought you were joking,” Eddie admitted, and his voice came out so low and so wanton that he felt startled by it. “God,” he worked his hips up, back, and down, and laughed breathlessly when he heard Richie gasp out beneath him. 

“You start going to yoga with me,” Richie reminded him. “I start blowing your mind once a day.”

“You do that already,” Eddie grinned, shimmying his hips. 

“Well, lover,” Richie raised one eyebrow in a clear challenge. “I guess I’m going to have to start learning _new_ things.”

 

_**Seven and a half months after the wedding.** _

“You okay?”

“Mm,” Eddie shrugged. He set his book aside and rubbed his temples. “I’m fine. I just have a headache.”

When he looked up Richie was scowling at him, brows furrowed. “How vain can you be, Eddie, get your eyes checked.” 

“I don’t need--“

“Okay, if I make an appointment for myself, and go to get my eyes checked, we can make it into a _date_ and you can get _your_ eyes checked too, okay?” Eddie glared. Richie rolled his eyes and yanked Eddie’s feet over onto his lap. Eddie yelped and fell back onto the couch. He sat up to say something, probably nasty, and laid back with a low sigh when Richie started rubbing one of his feet with both hands. “Say you’ll go.”

“Mmn, fuck you,” Eddie sighed out, stretching his legs. 

“That’s all it’ll take?”

“Sorry, I meant fuck _off_.”

“That’s all it’ll take?” Richie repeated. He kept up his work on Eddie’s right foot, working a thumb into his arch, and Eddie groaned again. If his legs fell open a little and his back arched up, well, foot rubs were intimate and sexy. He was only human. “C’mon, Eddie, please? Be a good boy for me?”

Eddie swallowed hard and nodded, his neck flushed. “If it’s a date, how could I say no,” he conceded, opening his eyes. Richie was smirking at him. 

“I love it when you see things my way,” he said, his hand travelling up Eddie’s calf. “I love it when you’re so _good_ for me, Eddie.” 

“I-I…” Eddie gasped out a small sound when Richie’s hand stroked his inner thigh. “I love being good for you, Richie.”

“Can I?”

“ _Please_.” 

 

_**Eight months and one week after the wedding.** _

“You bought me flowers?” Richie asked flatly, his brows raised and his eyes wide. 

“Yes,” Eddie smiled. He felt weirdly shy. He rubbed the back of his neck, underneath his scarf, and waited for Richie to let him into his apartment. His right hand was clutched around a bouquet of roses. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Richie-- _ah_!”

Richie hauled Eddie inside, slammed the front door, and pressed the smaller man against it. He was on his knees so fast that Eddie didn’t even have time to take off his snow boots.

 

_**Nine months after the wedding.** _

Richie and Eddie bopped around each other in the kitchen while the snow flew wildly outside. It wasn’t super common for them to get a blizzard in March, and Eddie joked that he’d gotten it for Richie’s for his birthday, so that they could be snowed in together. Richie had pretended to swoon, and had punched him in the shoulder, laughing, but Eddie had seen the warmth and the intent in his gaze, and it had filled his stomach with butterflies. 

Richie was done with his beard phase for the time being; he was clean-shaven with his hair in a bun and his glasses on his nose, and was singing loudly along with the radio. _“Fell in love with a girl, I fell in love once and almost completely!”_ He took a wad of pizza dough and flung it at Eddie, who was dancing behind him in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of Richie’s boxers that sat dangerously low on his hips. 

Eddie caught the dough and started working it out with his hands when Richie took it away as quickly as he’d given it. Eddie laughed hysterically as Richie pulled him into a jumping, wild dance routine, and did his best to keep up. He let himself be spun around and settled with his back to Richie, swaying his hips to the song and half singing along himself, giggling while Richie grinded behind him.

“Pineapple?” Richie asked suddenly, breathlessly.

“Not even on your birthday,” Eddie said sweetly, his giggles erupting out into full-blown laughter as Richie picked him up. He kicked out when the taller man planted a wet, awful raspberry on the side of his neck. “Richie, _ew_!”

Richie smiled against Eddie’s neck, settling into one long, open-mouthed kiss there, teasing the damp skin with his tongue and a subtle nip of his teeth. Eddie shivered, hard, and then Richie was jumping with him again; “ _WELL I SAID IT ONCE BEFORE AND IT BEARS REPEATING, YEAH!_ ”

Eddie was shrieking with laughter, kicking his feet as Richie waved him all around. “Richie! Richie, the _pizza_!!”

 

_**Ten months after the wedding.** _

Eddie and Richie sat back to back on the couch. Lettie sat in front of Richie, painting his nails, and they were chatting wildly while Eddie read a thick book, a little smile on his face below his new glasses, his finger gliding down the page to help him keep track of his pace. He hummed and popped the cap off of his highlighter and noted a passage.

“What are you writing, Eddie?” Lettie asked. Her tone was careful, but friendly, and Eddie knew that she was trying. He turned around and smiled at her over Richie’s shoulder. 

“Just highlighting a passage, getting ready for my final paper for the year.”

“Don’t you have another month of school?”

“Eddie’s a big nerd and he believes in preparing,” Richie said, and there was pride in his tone. Eddie kissed his cheek. “Affection! Richie scores!”

“I should really stop rewarding you for your bad behavior,” Eddie smiled and pressed his nose into Richie’s cheek. He was re-growing his beard, and Eddie vacillated between hating it and lusting over it. 

“But then you’ll never reward me at all,” Richie pouted. Lettie laughed, lifted his hands, and blew over his nails. “Thanks, girlfriend. You’re the realest.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I’m making you do mine _and_ my toes.”

“I’m a lucky, lucky boy,” Richie said, bouncing a little. This time, Eddie and Lettie both laughed.

Eddie looked at the crooked wall clock, haphazard above Richie’s TV. “Is Charlie getting off shift soon? We can all go to dinner.” 

“She’s a seven to seven today,” Lettie said, and she smiled warmly at Eddie. “And she likes to get out of her scrubs and shower and decompress after her shift, but she’s off tomorrow so if you’re down for a later sort of meal--“

“We are,” Eddie and Richie said in unison, both of them turning to smile and smooch. 

Lettie rolled her eyes, still fanning over Richie’s fingers. “I’m touched, but you’re both disgusting.”

“Ain’t gay love grand?” Richie swooned, falling back against Eddie with all of his weight.

“Ack, Richie, you weigh a fucking ton.” 

“Rude! I know you’re building all these sexy muscles from yoga, Eds--“

“It’s not instant, dipshit, I can’t just bench one-eighty-five from a seated position--“

“You’re up to one eighty five?” Lettie asked, shocked. Richie flushed bashfully and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. It was the most he had ever weighed. 

“I know you were looking extra good!” Lettie shouted. She dived over Richie and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek. Eddie squawked under the added weight and fell flat back on the couch, trapped underneath them. “You’ve been doing so well, baby boy!”

Richie let out a weird, joyful squeal, wrapping his arms around Lettie in turn. “You wretched bitch, you’ll wreck my nails!” But he was laughing, and he looked so _happy_. He wiggled up a little bit to give Eddie some relief, and Eddie attached himself to Richie’s back like a koala, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and his legs around his thighs. 

“Lettie,” he said, and Lettie looked at him curiously. “Richie’s ticklish in one spot, okay? The backs of his knees- he always blocks them and he’s got a lot of reach on me so I can never get it,” he smiled sweetly. “Just thought you’d like to know.” 

Lettie grinned and looked at Richie. Richie’s head whipped back and forth and he started to struggle and squirm in Eddie’s arms. “Nononononono, lemme go, Eds, _Christ_ , what the fuck, your arms are like steel--“

“New Yoga muscles,” Eddie said sweetly. Lettie skittered her hands over Richie’s waist and he yelped, his stomach jumping. She grabbed one of his legs and grinned hugely, skating her fingers over the backs of his knees and Richie howled with laughter, already panting, and struggled desperately. 

“EDDIE, Eddie, Eds, baby- hey,” Richie said suddenly, his tone fast and serious. “Eddie, are you popping wood right now?”

“What?” Eddie blinked. Lettie was staring at him now, her hands still, a weird expression on her face. “I’m not!” Eddie released Richie’s midriff and waved his hands. “I _swear_ I’m not!”

“Baby, it’s okay,” Richie soothed, relaxing and smirking at Lettie. “We’re into tickle torture.”

“Richard, UGH--“ and Eddie made the mistake of letting his legs fall slack and Richie was off of the couch like a shot. Lettie dropped onto Eddie with a soft “oomph”. 

“Bastards!” Richie pointed between them. “Traitors, both of you--“ He was cut off by the door to his apartment opening. Jesse burst in, his eyes radiant. His beard was braided, and so was his long mane of blonde hair. 

“Our second single hit the Billboard top one hundred,” he said breathlessly. 

Lettie sat up and Richie dropped his hand. “What?” He croaked. “ _What_?”

“Forty-one,” Jesse said. “We’re at forty-one.” 

“Holy shit,” Lettie sat back, looking dazed. Richie dropped to his knees with a muffled thump and buried his face in his hands. 

Eddie scrambled off of the couch and dove over to Richie, wrapping the taller man in his arms. “It’s a good thing,” Richie said, muffled, his shoulders shaking. “They’re good tears, Eds, don’t worry.”

Eddie scooped him close anyway and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, vice tight, and for a while the whole world melted away. On their knees together on the floor of Richie’s studio apartment they celebrated a small, personal victory with their fingers on each others’ backs, Eddie’s lips on Richie’s hair, and Richie’s mouth pressed against Eddie’s chest, right over his beating heart.

 

_**One year after the wedding.** _

Eddie was on his back on the beach. It was a source of uproarious joy in his heart and the pit of his stomach to lay there with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. He had tanning oil on his body and lemon juice in his hair, just like Annie, who was laying next to him in a similarly blissful state. 

“Hey, hey.” Eddie opened his eyes and tilted up his glasses. Richie had wandered back to him, his hair slicked back with salt water, a wet, useless cigarette tucked behind his ear. “Hydration check.” He held out a water bottle and Eddie smiled innocently, running his tongue over the mouth of the bottle. He pulled it past his lips and look a long sip, his head canted back, and almost choked laughing when he heard Richie’s reverent whisper of “ _Nice_ ”. 

“Nice, yourself.”

“Fruit check,” Eddie opened his mouth and Richie fed him a strawberry. He wiggled, feeling totally, blissfully happy, and Richie beamed at him. 

“So cute. Richie check,” he leaned in, then, and pressed his lips to Eddie’s. 

“You can say that again,” Eddie murmured. They kissed deeply, Eddie’s hand tracing the contours of Richie’s lean back, Richie’s fingers tangling in Eddie’s hair. He pulled the taller man back on top of him and pushed up his sunglasses, smiling up at his boyfriend. “God. I love you so much.”

“God, who’s he? Somebody I should be jealous of?” Richie huffed. Eddie laughed. “My name is ‘Chee, asshole, get it right.”

“Sorry, ‘Chee, baby, won’t happen again,” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him again. He nuzzled their noses together. “What I obviously meant was I love you, Rich Tozier. And you have a sunburn.”

“I love you too, you little tan sexpot,” Richie cooed. He flopped off of Eddie to lay on his back beside him. They took hands and Eddie righted his sunglasses, smiling. 

“Thank god,” Annie mumbled from Eddie’s other side. “I was starting to think I’d have to tell you to get a room; and there aren’t any rooms at the beach.”

Richie laughed, his thumb swirling over Eddie’s knuckles. “We have a room Annie, baby. It’s the whole world. You’re in it.” 

Annie groaned good-naturedly and Eddie beamed, his eyes closed. Richie squeezed his hand and the sun seemed to heat up his insides just like it did his skin; its warmth caressed his mind, his stomach full of butterflies, and his racing heart. It was a perfect day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOWZA YOWZA YOWZA here we are at the end of part 6! I think this is the longest one yet!! WOW.
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your amazing support!!!!! Honestly, I wouldn't enjoy this nearly as much if ya'll weren't so excited to read it. <3333
> 
> WHEN WE RETURN IN PART SEVEN: We're going to be shooting forward by fourteen years, we'll find ourselves in 2016. Eddie is 41, then, and Richie is 40. We're going back to Derry.
> 
> Keep an eye out for Part Seven! It should be lumbering around the corner in a week-a week and a half or so. I should have a good chunk of time to write over the holidays and hopefully give you guys something good!
> 
> If I'm not back with something new before them: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to each and every one of you, always, in anyway that you celebrate.
> 
> Cheers!  
> xoxoxoxo  
> waxagent

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME BACK 
> 
> <3
> 
> Sorry about the long ass lapse. This was a tough bite to munch on.  
> I appreciate you all sticking by me through the angst! Trust me, there's a purpose and a plan.  
> Hope ya'll enjoy it! Let me know what you think, if you like it, hate it, etc! I do this for youuuuuuuu!
> 
> Next chapter will be out in a few days or so!
> 
> xoxoxoxo
> 
> Also, please note the name change; on tumblr, you can find me at @waxagent or @waxagentwrites.
> 
> <3


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